Sorry About Your Cat
by BunnyOfMint
Summary: When playing baseball, Alfred accidentally kills somebody's cat. After meeting the animal's peculiar owner, he vows that he will make it up to the other boy, one way or another. AU, USUK, Yaoi.
1. Chapter 1

Characters do not belong to me.

Warnings: some swearing and a dead cat.

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Antonio threw the ball again, fast speed and straight to the other boy. Alfred watched with an uncanny eye, waiting for the right time before releasing his energy into the swing. The ball went flying, soaring through the sky and landing out in the grassy park somewhere.

The Spaniard chuckled and shook his head. "You've gotten too good at this, Al," He grinned at his friend. The boy still had a small accent despite living in America for most of his life.

The sandy blonde haired boy smiled at the compliment before getting back into batter's stance, waiting for Antonio to throw the ball. They practiced every Saturday; Antonio would help Alfred with batting and catching, and in return the American would help him with his soccer skills.

Antonio shook his head when Alfred got ready to hit another baseball. He dropped the ball at the pitcher's mat, walking over to the dugout to retrieve his bag and soccer ball.

"I've got to go, amigo. Mi papa is preparing something nice for dinner today; it would be a shame to be late," the brown-haired boy flashed a smile at the other.

"I'll see you later, then. I'm gonna stay and do self-pitch for a little, just some extra brush up," Alfred said. Antonio nodded his head before walking off, out of the park. Alfred watched him before picking up the last three baseballs and returning to home plate.

He had thirty balls in total but he never had to get them. His friend Ludwig had a trained German Shepard he could borrow. The dog rounded up all the baseballs for him, every single time. He'd never lost even one. Ludwig didn't mind; his dog got more training that way.

Balancing the baseball bat with his right hand, Alfred tossed the ball into the air with the left. The sphere swooped down, Alfred meeting it with the baseball bat. It went flying with a metallic cling echoing through the grassy park.

Again he threw the ball and sent it flying with a swing of his prized baseball bat. Last ball now; he'd have to make it the best hit of his life. He threw the ball into the air; last swing of the night. He waited until it was perfect before swinging his bat in the perfect arc; the ball soared through the sky, loud clang omitting from the bat. The ball kept flying and flying. This was one of the best hits he'd ever gotten!

Right up until it went into the backyard of a house.

Alfred groaned; he'd never hit it that far before. Not that it wasn't cool or anything, but now he'd have to go get it. He jogged over to the house where the ball had flown.

What if he broke a window? His parents already scolded him for breaking things at his house; how was he going to fix a window? It's a window! It's made of glass and costs too much money!

By the time he reached the house, he was panting. There was a chain link fence around the house and its neighbors he would have to walk all the way around, out of the park and into the subdivision to ring the doorbell.

Or he could just climb the fence.

This particular fence had grape vines all on it; it would make climbing hard, but it would still reduce the time greatly. He gripped the metal links in his hand and shoved his foot into one of the holes, slowly pulling himself up the fence. Slowly, he made it to the top, jumping over the fence and landing in a garden on the other side.

He brushed off his clothes, straightened the baseball cap on his head, and looked up- right into the angered eyes of a blonde haired boy, whose hand was clasped around a baseball, the other around what seemed to be a dead cat.

Alfred gulped as he looked at the boy. This was going to be hard to explain to his mother.

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Is it good? Yes? No? Please review and tell me! If you have any suggestions, those are nice :)

This is my first chapter story here... I plan on continuing this. So it will be a new experience for me!

Props to 'MagicInTheDark' for helping me figure out stuff. Cool friend, bro.

Review please! I'll try to update quickly if you all like it!


	2. Chapter 2

The American almost shivered from the cold emerald eyes that stared him down. It kind of made him wish he had his baseball bat, the same one he'd left on the other side of the fence so he could climb said fence.

Slowly the boy stood, his hands still clasped around the baseball and cat. His large eyebrows had clenched together in fury. Before that day, Alfred had never known short people could be so scary. He had to break the tension before this got out of hand.

"Uh… hi," Alfred grinned as he smiled his most heroic smile. At least he didn't break a window. Well, as far as he was concerned, the boy would have preferred it if the window had broken and not his dead cat. Maybe, just maybe, it was only unconscious.

"You killed my cat," he said. The voice was steely cold, with a slight accent. What accent was it? Alfred couldn't remember.

"Uh, yeah, about that…" he tried to smile wider. He raised his hands in defense as he continued.

"Yeah, um, your cat; sorry I hit it. But really it was like a one in a thousand shot that my baseball went this far and then hit your cat. Besides, it probably only unconscious! Well, maybe… but there's still a chance!" he chuckled nervously.

"You killed my cat," the boy repeated.

"Well, it was just a cat, you know. It could have been a window, or something," he continued.

"You killed my cat," he said for the third time. Alfred sighed.

"Yes, I killed your cat. What do you want me to do about it? Summon magical powers and resurrect him?" he asked the shorter boy. He simply rolled his eyes as Alfred said this.

"You cannot resurrect life. Even the most basic mage know this. If you are making a mockery of black magic, you will suffer greatly in the afterlife," he growled.

"Yeah, sorry; I'm not really familiar with magic, y'know; besides Harry Potter," he said. The boy continued to stare at him; Alfred felt queasy from the boy. Nobody had ever withstood the hero smile!

Abruptly the boy turned around and walked towards the house. Alfred stumbled after him, trying to keep pace with the brisk walk. He walked not into the house, but into a shed right next to it. Alfred continued following him.

The shed had a small light inside, turned on by the mysterious boy. Come to think of it, Alfred didn't even know his name. The shorter boy turned around abruptly and held out the baseball and cat, staring at Alfred again.

"What, you want me to hold your dead cat?" he snorted; but the eyes continued to peer into his soul, so he grabbed the baseball and cat from his hands. Swiftly the boy turned his body around, grabbing a shovel, turning off the light, and walking out of the shed. Alfred followed him yet again as the boy stepped into the garden.

The American watched, baseball and deceased cat in hand, while the other boy shoveled a hole in the ground. He did it swiftly, making the grave perfect dimensions for the cat. He set the shovel aside and stared at Alfred again, that same godforsaken stare, and pointed into the hole.

Slowly Alfred lowered the cat into the hole before standing up, but the boy continued to stare again.

"The ball," he said, voice monotone.

"Dude, it's a baseball. It doesn't need to be buried." Alfred argued.

"Such is the price for killing Winston," he hissed. Wanting to avoid an argument, Alfred placed one of his thirty baseballs into the hole. In the blink of an eye the kid had shoveled dirt on top of it, setting the shovel aside. Leaning down, he picked up rocks and surrounded the area of the cat grave with the stones.

"Here lies Winston, a great cat if there ever was one. My friend, my comrade; a great cat, he was. May he rest in peace." Alfred had truly decided this boy was crazy. Cat ceremonies? That was certainly new to him.

The boy had looked at him, not really a stare, but just a look. It was a questioning look… did he want him to say something for the cat? No, no; he was not going to become crazy... but, he _did _kill the cat.

"This cat was a great cat. For there was no cat like Wilfred-"

"Winston."

"Right, Winston. He was great, he did great things. He achieved many things. May this cat be forever remembered… thank you," he finished, looking at the other boy for approval; but the blonde-haired boy was staring at the grave, sorrow filling the emerald eyes.

Slowly the shorter boy trudged to his house, walking to the door. Alfred wondered... could he go now? Could he leave it at that? No, that wasn't right. He was a hero, and heroes strive to do the right thing!

"Wait, dude, what's your name?" Alfred asked. The boy had his hand resting on the door, but he turned his head towards Alfred.

"Arthur Kirkland," he murmured, barely audible.

"Arthur? Ok, Arthur, I swear I will make this up to you! I promise, and a hero never breaks his promises!" he grinned; and with that last thought, the baseball player climbed over the fence.

_Such a peculiar boy,_ Arthur thought.

* * *

Getting good? Did I make the idea suck? I feel like a failure guys!

Please review! It makes me so happy, you don't know! I love you all for reading the story.

Suggestions or constructive criticism is nice :D -Fire


	3. Chapter 3

Characters do not belong to me.

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Alfred tried to calm his breathing as he looked at the door in front of him. Why was it so complicated to knock on a door? It was a door for god's sake. It was made of wood. So why couldn't he bring himself to ring the doorbell?

Right, the boy on the other side intimidated him like no other. But, he killed Winston. He owed it to the boy. Slowly he reached the door up and pressed the small round button next to the door. He heard the sound of the bell on the other side as he waited impatiently.

The door swung open and he was met with Arthur's gaze. He didn't say anything, didn't invite him in; just stood there, staring at Alfred.

"What's up, dude?" Alfred started, pulling off a grin.

"Why are you here?" He asked. Alfred adjusted the bag he had on his back.

"I promised you I would make it up to you for killing Wilfred-"

"Winston."

"Right, yeah, Winston… anyways- here I am, coming to cheer you up!" He smiled, but the other boy stood at the door, not moving. Alfred shifted the weight on his feet uncomfortably.

"So, you know, this is the part where you invite me in, normally," he said slowly. The blonde blinked once before stepping out of the doorway, allowing Alfred to step into his house.

"Okay, I brought over my Xbox and some video games and stuff. We can just eat some junk food while we play, okay? I don't mind if my controllers get greasy!" He said as he surveyed the house. There was a small, formal room just to his left, probably for guests to come and sit. The hallway he was in split in two towards the end. Paintings adorned the walls, and it looked rather nice.

"Video games?" The boy asked. Alfred raised an eyebrow.

"What, you've never played any video games?" Alfred asked Arthur. The shorter boy shook his head 'no'. Alfred's jaw dropped down.

"Dude, you're like… a teenage boy. How have you not played video games?" he questioned. Arthur just shrugged his shoulders.

"Ok, you're playing some video games. What else have you not done?" the taller boy continued.

"I've never had a snowball fight," Arthur said. Alfred pulled out a piece of paper out of his pocket and unfolded it.

"Do you have a pencil?" he asked. Arthur walked off, turning right at the end of the hallway and came back moments later with a pencil. He handed it to Alfred, who started scribbling down things.

"What are you doing?" Arthur asked. The American's handwriting was atrocious Arthur couldn't even read it.

"I'm making a to do list for you. That way I can figure out all the things you haven't done and we can do them," he murmured. Arthur rolled his eyes; he was perfectly comfortable locked up in his house reading and gardening.

"Ok, we'll have to wait on the snowball fight in the winter. I'll get like 20 people to come so it will be a full-out brawl. But for now… Have you ever been out for ice cream?" Alfred asked.

"Never," he replied. Alfred scribbled it down.

"Have you ever played baseball?"

"I don't want to." Alfred had a look of disbelief on his face.

"Why not? Baseball is so fun!" he retorted.

"Baseball killed Winston," he lamented.

"No, I killed Winston. Baseball didn't kill Winston," Alfred said, writing it down on the list.

"Have you ever been to a movie theater?"

"Only when my mom takes me." Alfred pondered it for a second, tapping the pencil on his chin; finally he listed it on the paper.

"Have you ever kissed someone?"

"No." Alfred scribbled it down.

"Gone bowling?"

"Yes, actually; not particularly fun, is it?"

"Watched a horror movie?"

"I can't say I have."

"Have you ever had a sleepover?"

"Not ever."

"Anything else you want to do, Artie?" Alfred asked. Arthur grabbed the pencil from Arthur and wrote on the checklist in much neater writing: _go to the library_. Alfred raised his eyebrows but said nothing.

"Alright! Now we have a goal, Artie," he smiled. Arthur nodded his head.

"Let's start with the games," he said. "Where's your TV?" he asked. Arthur started walking into the house; he took the right hallway and they came to a kitchen. Alfred followed Arthur as he walked to a staircase, bounding down and going into a larger room. There was a larger TV in the room, as well as a nice leather couch.

Alfred wasted no time in setting up the game and teaching Arthur the controls. He slid Modern Warfare into the system and sat next to Arthur.

"Don't sit so close to me," Arthur growled. Alfred grinned.

"Why, does it bug you?" he grinned and scooted to the left, closer to Arthur. The Brit scooted farther down the couch, the taller boy following him. Arthur pushed up against the arm of the couch as the American scooted up against his right side.

"Arrtiee~" He grinned. Arthur tried to push the taller boy away to no avail.

"Stop it, you bloody git!" he yelled. Alfred laughed and patted him on the back before sliding away.

"Just making fun of you, Artie," he smiled before starting the game. Arthur complained that the game had no point besides shooting people, but he still played with Alfred.

Hours later Arthur had become a pro at the game.

"Okay Artie, I've got to go," Alfred murmured as he packed up the gaming system. Arthur followed him up the stairs with a sad look on his face as Alfred opened up the door and stepped outside. Arthur continued to follow him.

"Arthur… you should probably stay at your house," he told the Brit. Arthur scratched his head nervously; it was dark outside, the moonlight shining on their face. Suddenly Arthur bounded forward and wrapped his arms around Alfred's waist, pressing his head against the American's shirt.

"What are you doing, Arthur?" He asked the smaller boy.

"I stayed up doing research on friends last night; they said that friends hugged other friends as a means of greeting and farewells," he mumbled against his chest. Alfred smiled. That sounded like the boy he knew.

"Ok, then," he hugged the boy back, smiling happily. Arthur was smiling as they hugged; the American's arms were warm. Slowly they pulled apart and Alfred patted the boy on the head.

"See you later, Artie," he said, fixing his backpack and running down the sidewalk. Arthur watched his very first friend until he was out of sight.

He already missed the boy. Why did he miss him so much?

* * *

Props to MagicInTheDark again. WTH would I do without her?

PLEASE REVIEW GUYS. Even like a 'cool story bro' would be really nice.

Please tell me if I'm doing terrible or if I could improve on something.


	4. Chapter 4

Warnings: yaoi, mild swearing, you know.

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"I made a friend today," Arthur told his mother. They were both sitting on the couch; his mother was reading a book. Arthur was content to sit next to her. It was late afternoon, and they were waiting for the soup to finish for dinner.

Arthur's mother glanced up from the book, surprised her son was making conversation; and that, apparently, her son had made a friend. Arthur had a private tutor, so he didn't go to public school. He wasn't on any sports teams either – he was extremely anti-social in that way.

"That's nice. Did you meet him at the park?" She asked her son.

"No. I met him in the backyard when he hopped the fence." Arthur's mother looked at him in a concerned way.

"Arthur… how old is this friend?" she questioned. Arthur sat on the couch, legs crossed together while he played with his toes.

"It's ok, mom. He's not some random stranger; he killed Winston. That's how we met." She looked at her son again.

"I'm surprised you didn't use black magic on him or something," she flipped a page in her book.

"No; he's really nice actually. He says he's going to take me to the movies and have snowball fights and sleepovers. I don't know what to do on a sleepover though," he mumbled, looking down.

"What does he like to do?"

"He likes video games, and baseball, and killing cats," Arthur replied. His mother smiled, put a bookmark into her hardback.

"So play baseball with him and play video games during the night," she said. Arthur gave her a questioning look.

"During the night? I sleep every night at 10, though," he muttered. Her mother chuckled quietly.

"Yes, honey, I know. But you don't sleep until really late on sleepovers, you know," she told her son. Arthur's eyebrows knitted together at this information. Then he sighed and nodded his head.

"I can't play baseball," Arthur continued.

"I don't see why not. You're physically capable; it's not like your handicapped," she said.

"Baseball killed Winston," he grumbled. His mother stood up and walked over to the pot on the stove, stirring the soup several times.

"Baseball didn't kill Winston. That reminds me, how exactly did the cat die?"

"Alfred was playing baseball in the park behind us and he hit a ball really far. The ball hit Winston while I was outside gardening," he frowned at remembering the sight of Winston dying. He was such a good cat, a friend too; one that would watch Dr. Who with him on the couch.

"That explains a lot. Just have fun on the sleepover, it's not that hard. You can play baseball, Arthur. It would be good for you to get some exercise into your daily routine," she told her son as she walked back over to the couch again.

"Alright; I'll try my hardest, mom," he told her. She smiled as she picked up the book again and flipped to her bookmark.

Alfred had come over to play video games again on Wednesday, and they had planned to have a sleepover that Friday. He told Alfred he would like to try baseball, which had turned the taller boy into an ecstatic ball of energy for the rest of the day. Arthur had cleaned the house twice and requested that her mother buy 'junk food' or something like that. Alfred had said something about junk food.

He'd spent an hour researching baseball and how it was played, and then watched a game on their television. Finally, finally, he deemed himself ready for the sleepover.

"Hey dude, what's up?" Alfred grinned as he walked into the house. Arthur shut the door behind him. It was about five in the afternoon; that gave them enough daylight to play baseball.

Arthur shrugged his shoulders and headed downstairs to the large room in the basement. Alfred followed; he had several bags on his shoulders. Alfred set all the bags immediately down on the couch as Arthur looked at them.

"What's in the bags?" he asked his friend. Alfred smiled a devious smile as he looked at the other boy.

"Drugs," Arthur's eyes widened as he looked at the bags and started rambling about how drugs were bad for you and you shouldn't do them and that his mom might not approve; all the while Alfred was laughing.

"Dude, they're not actually drugs. I was just messing with you; I brought my baseball stuff, my Xbox, and my pillow and blanket. Chill; I'm not gonna get you high," he explained. Arthur sighed in relief.

"So… no drugs?" he said. Alfred nodded his head.

"That's good. Should we go to the park, then?" He asked Alfred. The taller boy nodded his head as he picked up a bag that was long in length. Arthur bounded upstairs and Alfred followed him, right out the backdoor. Arthur looked at the fence and looked at Alfred again.

"What, you want to climb the fence?" he asked Arthur. The boy nodded his head yes.

"It seems to be your favorite transportation from my house to the park," he said. Alfred rolled his eyes, then pulled the bag off his shoulder and tossed it over. He stuck his foot into the fence and began to climb the chain-link, careful not to hurt the grape-vine too much.

Arthur followed suit, paying careful attention to mimic his movements until the both had hopped down to the other side, Alfred had picked up the bag, and they were walking to the baseball field on the other side.

"Why are you looking at me?" Arthur asked. Alfred sighed quietly.

"I'm checking to see if you're wearing anything not good for baseball. Ok, you don't have cleats but that's fine… what you're wearing should be good," Alfred said as he scanned Arthur's clothing.

Arthur looked at what he was wearing; tennis shoes his mother had gotten for him, a dark green t-shirt, and some jeans his mother had gotten for him. Normally he would wear slacks, but his mother had bought him 'clothing he could get dirty' so he had something to wear for this.

Slowly they reached the field and Alfred set the bag down and pulled out two mitts from it.

"You know what these are, right?" Arthur nodded his head.

"Mitts; used by the outfield team," He said. Alfred smiled and nodded his head, tossing one to Arthur. The Brit caught it, and after a moment of studying the object, pushed his hand into it. The glove fit on his right hand almost perfectly; only a little too big.

When he looked up, Alfred had secured his own mitt on his right hand and had a baseball in his left. He looked at Arthur, seeing if the boy was ready. Arthur stood, mimicking the poses in the book he read on baseball, waiting for Alfred to throw the ball.

"You ready, dude?" Alfred asked. Arthur nodded his head, a determined look on his face. They were about fifteen feet apart, but this was his first time catching a baseball. He couldn't mess it up.

Alfred tossed the ball underhand to the Briton. Arthur watched it; he could catch it. The ball came towards him, and he placed his glove underneath it. The ball fell in, and Arthur smiled.

"I caught it," he whispered. Alfred was smiling at him when he looked up.

"So now I try to throw it, right?" He asked the American. He nodded his head, so Arthur pulled the ball out of his glove and tossed it at Alfred, who caught it with ease. Then the blue-eyed boy took three steps backwards and tossed it to Arthur again. He positioned the glove correctly but forgot to close the glove; the ball slipped out and he erupted in a series of British cussing.

"You've gotta squeeze the glove shut, Artie!" Alfred instructed. He lifted up his glove and demonstrated. Arthur watched with a close eye before picking up the ball and tossing it to Alfred. He caught it again and tossed it back, and this time Arthur caught it. Each time Arthur caught it, he would take another 3 steps back until Arthur couldn't even throw to him. Slowly the Brit picked up the natural flow of the glove; and once Alfred saw this, he decided to start on batting.

The American jogged back to where Arthur had stood, smiling. He adjusted the baseball cap he was wearing and pulled off his glove and dropped it next to his bag. He raised his hand in a fist, looking at Arthur.

"Alfred, what are you doing?" The Brit asked, eyeing Alfred's hand.

"Knuckles, you know; fist bump. Congratulations," he grinned. Arthur stared at the fist.

"Raise your hand up like mine," Alfred instructed. Arthur did as he was told, taking off his glove and presenting his hand. Alfred bumped their fists together; Arthur confused by the gesture but complied.

"That's how you fist bump," he told the Brit. Arthur looked up in thought.

"So it's like an informal version of the handshake?" He asked. Alfred laughed and nodded his head.

"Kind of; so you ready to start on batting?" Alfred asked, kneeling down and pulling out a sleek black bat from the bag. Arthur looked at the bat for a second; he remembered how the baseball players on the TV had held the bat, so he copied as best he could. Alfred looked at his stance before going to stand behind the boy.

"Elbow up, Arthur," he murmured. Arthur felt a hand lightly push his right elbow up. Then another wrapped around to his stomach and pushed it back; he could feel Alfred's stomach touching his back.

"Bend your knees a little more," he murmured; Arthur could feel the American's breath on his ear. Why was he blushing? Blushing was something you do when you were embarrassed. The Brit felt queasy from Alfred standing so close, but certainly not embarrassed.

"Ok, your stance is good; now swinging," he whispered quietly. Arthur felt Alfred's chest press up against his back, and then watched as the American placed his hands over his on the baseball bat.

"You swing in a kind of dip," Alfred moved Arthur's hands and the bat in a swing, pulling the bat back and swinging again. Arthur was trying to pay attention, but his mind was confused right now and was still blushing. It made no sense to him!

Alfred pulled away and walked in front of the Brit.

"Ok, now show me how to swing," Alfred instructed. Arthur mimicked the movement, and Alfred smiled.

"That's perfect! Now go stand on home base. I'll pitch for you." Arthur went to the base in the front that was called home base. He got into the stance as fast as possible, looking up to see Alfred all ready for pitching.

"Ok, hitting is hard. Don't be surprised if you can't hit it the first couple of times. It kind of comes the more you practice," he said. Then he lined up and threw a soft underhand pitch to Arthur.

The boy watched the ball until it came close, but he missed. His eyebrows knit together in anger but said nothing. Alfred pulled another ball out of the bag he'd moved next to him and tossed it, Arthur missing again.

"Just watch the ball, Artie. Don't stress too much," he said, pitching another. Arthur missed again, much to his disappointment. Another ball passed him, and another.

It was on his seventh ball that he got lucky.

Alfred pitched the ball to Arthur, who was watching the ball as it sped towards him. As it neared him he turned his foot and started swinging, anger from missing the last shots making the swing powerful. It struck the ball flying towards second base, flying over Alfred's head.

Arthur watched the ball, astounded. It flew so perfectly. Alfred ran towards him and caught him in a bear hug, picking him up off the ground and spinning him in circles, all the while laughing.

"You did it, Artie! I could kiss you right now!" He laughed as he set the boy down again. Arthur let out a laugh – the first Alfred had heard from him – and ended up hugging Alfred again. Alfred hugged back, happy that Arthur was happy.

"You think you could hit it again, dude?" Alfred asked, releasing the shorter boy and walking back to the pitcher's base. The Brit nodded his head and went back to the stance; when Alfred pitched it he hit it again, then missed a few, and a few more hits until it was getting too dark to play. They rounded up all the balls (Ludwig didn't answer when Alfred called him) and headed back to Arthur's house, hopping the fence and going into the house.

When they walked in, a middle-aged woman was sitting on Arthur's couch reading a book. She looked up and smiled when she saw them come in.

"You must be Alfred," she stood up and walked over to the two boys, offering a hand for Alfred to shake. The American was about to shake it when Arthur interrupted.

"Mom, Alfred does fist bumps, not handshakes," he told his mom. As if his mother was used to this, she turned her handshake into a fist bump, her smile widening. Alfred bumped fists with her, smiling as well.

"Are you Artie's mom, then?" he asked. The woman shook her head yes.

"I heard you killed Winston," Alfred nodded his head.

"In my defense it was a total accident," he argued. Arthur's mother chuckled before moving to sit back down on the couch.

"Well, I'm gonna go introduce your son to horror movies if you don't have any objections," he told arthur's mother. She looked up at him.

"Oh? Which ones?" She asked Alfred.

"You know, the good ones; The Ring, The Grudge, and if we have time maybe some Saw," the woman was nodding her head as Alfred listed them off.

"Good choices. I'll let you two survive on Cheetos for the night and I'll see you in the morning," Alfred grinned and started walking downstairs, Arthur staying to talk to his mom for a moment before following.

Alfred loaded The Grudge into the DVD player and flipped off the lights. They both sat on the couch under individual blankets and to watch the movie.

Halfway through the movie Arthur was underneath Alfred's blanket scared out of his mind. Alfred patted him on the head; truth be told he was scared shitless too, but he had to be a hero, so he had to act strong.

They had time to watch The Grudge and the first Saw before they went to bed. Arthur was shivering under the blanket as he tried to sleep. Alfred pretended not to be scared but he was; and five minutes later Arthur had broken the silence.

"A-Alfred?" Arthur stuttered.

"Yeah?"

"I'm scared."

"I know. Just try to sleep."

"I can't."

"Just try." There was a momentary pause afterwards with Arthur trying to take his advice, but he still couldn't sleep; so he came up with a different strategy.

"Alfred?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I sleep next to you?" There was a momentary pause while Alfred thought it over.

"Yes, but only because it was your first horror movie," he said. The shorter boy wasted no time in discarding his blanket and slipping under Alfred's, wrapping his arm around Alfred and tucking his head into the American's chest.

"Goodnight, Alfred."

"'night, Artie."

* * *

Thank you to all who reviewed the last chapter! It really made me super happy :D Some of you told me to focus on making the chapters longer so i tried pretty hard. Tell me if i fulfilled your hopes and dreams.

Please review and tell me if you liked this chapter or not and things i could improve on!

Thanks for reading, reviewing, and following and everything else! I love you all!


	5. Chapter 5

Don't own characters, bla bla bla. Yaoi. yeah. Enjoy!

* * *

Arthur's mother headed downstairs with two plates of waffles in her hands, stepping into the main room in the basement and coming upon a peculiar sight; Alfred and Arthur cuddling, fast asleep.

She rolled her eyes sarcastically at the sight; she could hear Alfred lightly snoring. He had his arm around Arthur, and Arthur was using the American as a personal teddy bear.

"They'll be so gay one day," she chuckled, setting the food on the coffee table and leaving the room.

~~~~~~~~~~Line Break~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Arthur woke up later, finding that the American had wrapped long arms around his body; and again, he was bombarded with that queasy feeling he had begun to feel lately. What was it? Why did it only happen when Alfred was around?

The Brit could see his mum had left waffles for the two of them on the coffee table; but he was reluctant to move. Not only was Alfred a teddy bear, but he also acted as a personal space heater for the boy. He was lightly snoring and a little drool was hanging out.

That made Arthur smirk; Alfred was drooling. He wondered if all Americans drooled. Maybe it had something to do with hamburgers. He would have to research it.

Arthur was torn between several options: one was he could carefully slip out of the baseball player's grasp and eat his waffles. Another option would be to sit and enjoy his personal space heater/teddy bear. He could wake up the boy as well.

"Alfred," Arthur said, loudly to wake him up. The boy showed no response. Arthur had never woken up somebody before, nor did he have any researching done on the subject. He spent too much time researching, actually; it was because he excelled in everything his tutor showed him. He had a drive to learn more than was available at a public school; but there were always books and sometimes the internet.

"Alfred!" He said louder, with no response still. His arms were trapped under the steel grip of Alfred's arms. What other option did he have? He struggled until they were face to face and bit down on the American's nose.

Alfred woke up with a shout, pulling his nose out of Arthur's mouth and squirming enough for both of them to fall off the couch. Alfred landed on the floor and Arthur on him. Both of them winced in pain and started to pull off the blanket that had wrapped them together so tightly.

The two finally broke out of the blanket trap and sat next to each other on the couch, eating the not-so-warm waffles Arthur's mother left for them.

"Why did you bite my nose?" Alfred asked, his mouth full of waffle.

"You didn't wake up from me saying Alfred so I did the next best thing," he said. Alfred rolled his eyes, set his plate down on the coffee table, and walked over to his bags. Unzipping one of the bag's zippers, he pulled out a piece of neatly folded paper and a blue pencil. He walked back to the couch and sat down, unfolding the paper.

Arthur recognized it as the 'to-do list' Alfred had made for him. He took the pencil and crossed out _play video games, play baseball, watch a horror movie _and _have a sleepover._ That left _have a snowball fight, go for ice cream, movie theater, kiss someone, _and _go to the library._

Arthur looked at it, stunned. They'd already done four things! This list was going to go by fast! What if Alfred didn't want to spend time with him after he paid off his debt for killing Winston?

"Alfred?" he asked the boy. The blue eyes looked at him and waited for him to say what he wanted to say.

"You're still going to spend time with me after you've made it up to me for killing my cat, right?" he asked, his eyes wide and horrified to what the American's answer would be. Alfred was his friend! He couldn't not have Alfred anymore!

"Of course I will, Artie! I do feel bad for killing Waldo-"

"Winston."

"But I'm gonna make sure you've done all the things you should when you're a kid; that's why we have a checklist," he grinned, not noticing how scared Arthur was for a moment.

"Ok, here's what we'll do- We'll go for ice cream but we'll invite a bunch of friends to come with us, that way you can meet girls and we can work on the kissing thing," Alfred said before folding up the checklist and returning it to the bag along with the pencil.

Arthur bit his lip. Who did he want to kiss? The only people that he was close to were his tutor, who was an old man, his mum, who was his mum, and Alfred… who was…

"How does that sound, Artie?" Alfred interrupted the Brit's thoughts. Arthur smiled and said it was a good idea, and Alfred smiled in return.

"Ok, I don't have to go for like another 2 hours. Wanna play some Halo?" Alfred asked, grinning as he pulled his Xbox out of the bag without waiting for Arthur's reply. The Brit didn't mind; sometimes Alfred could be impulsive like that.

Alfred set up the game for them and handed Arthur the controller, signing into Xbox live so they could play with others. Arthur wore an expressionless look throughout the game - not that it was anything new, of course - to hide the thoughts he was thinking.

He _couldn't _kiss Alfred, could he?

* * *

Did you guys like it? I must tell you though, updates are going to be farther apart now; I have school to worry about, and then I have all sorts of extracurricular activities I don't want to think about right now -_- But never fear! I will still update a minimum of once a week, most likely twice. I SWEAR ON ITACHI UCHIHA I WILL NEVER DISCONTINUE THIS. If I do spam my inbox as much as you want until I restart it.

Other than that, still working on making chapters continue to review and tell me if you like this review! I love to see reviews! They keep me going, guys! I love you all for reading :D


	6. Chapter 6

Don't own characters, blah blah. You already know.

* * *

Arthur stared at the door of the ice cream parlor. The front of the shop was covered in rainbow colors, and the sign above it read "_Benny's Ice Cream"_ in curvy writing.

Alfred had told him to meet him here next Friday, and it was now Friday. The leaves were falling; it was Autumn, and it would soon be winter. He had a lightweight jacket on, but it wasn't enough to keep him warm from the chilly breeze. That was what pushed him into mini store in the end.

The inside was just as colorful as the outside; the walls were painted a light shade of pink and the tile was alternating black and white. All of the tables were different colors; red, green, blue, and chairs to go with them, and several people sat around the room. Along the back of the shop were glass containers, presumably full of ice cream; a man was standing behind the counters, filling one up now. The place was overly colorful in his opinion; but it worked for an ice cream shop.

"Artie!" A familiar voice caught the Brit's attention. Green eyes focused onto a larger table to the side where Alfred sat; a girl with long, light brown hair sat with him, along with another with shoulder length blonde hair tied back with a red ribbon. Finally another boy who had brown hair sat next to the blonde girl.

Arthur let a light smile come across his face as he walked over to the table, selecting a chair next to Alfred before sitting down, but bolted up instantly as he heard a tiny yelp emit from his seat.

Turning and looking at the seat, he now saw a boy with longer hair and a small curl protruding from the blonde locks. He had glasses framing his almost purple eyes and had a hoodie with the Canadian leaf upon it. The Brit frowned as he looked at him. He wasn't sitting there before… was he?

"My apologies, I didn't see you," Arthur confessed while taking a seat next to the boy.

"Yeah, nobody really does. It's fine," he said in turn. "My name's Matthew, by the way. You must be Arthur," he smiled weakly. His voice was so quiet and he almost blended into the background, if not for the red hoodie he was wearing.

Arthur smiled and nodded his head. He seemed nice, albeit quiet, but nice. He noticed for the first time that the group was chuckling, or in Alfred's case, laughing out loud, at the incident.

"Nobody notices Mattie; he's used to it," the girl with the blonde locks smiled radiantly. A cup of pink ice cream rested in her hands. She looked rather cute, actually. Arthur loosened the scowl that was on his face; the atmosphere around the group of friends was nice and welcoming. The girl continued, her ecstatic smile staying on her face.

"I'm Bell, by the way. You've just met Matthew," she pointed to the quiet boy. "This is Antonio, and Liz. You already know Alfred," Arthur listened with a careful ear, nodding his head. The names were easy enough to remember.

"Okay Artie, what flavors do you want?" Alfred stood up, pushing his chair back with a loud screech as it scraped across the tile. Walking past the timid Canadian he grabbed Arthur's wrist and yanked him out of the chair and over to the glass counters; Arthur could see huge containers of ice cream in the cabinets.

"What flavors are there, Alfred?" The Briton said, sarcasm laced into his voice. But the sarcasm flew over Alfred's head as he started to list off ice cream flavors at a fast speed.

"Vanilla bean, apple cobbler crunch, butter pecan, super chocolate, cookies 'n cream, chocolate chip, chocolate marshmallow, chocolate crunch, chocolate chocolate, chocolate cherry-"

"Alfred."

"Sundae swirl, super fudge, lemon pecan… actually lemons are pretty good; you should share one with me, Artie~! Oh, and there's also Mallo cup, Maple syrup – that's Mattie's favorite – pistachio, tea berry, strawberry, strawberry pecan-"

"Alfred, stop it!" Arthur growled and watched as the American stopped his pointless babbling. The taller of the two looked at Arthur, waiting not-so-patiently for Arthur to finish.

"Tell me one flavor," he continued slowly, making sure the baseball player could comprehend.

"Uh… vanilla; everybody has had vanilla and chocolate, so we'll get you a scoop of both," he said. Arthur nodded his head in agreement.

"Ok Benny, one scoop of vanilla and one scoop of chocolate for my friend; and put chocolate syrup on it," he told the man behind the counter. The moustached man nodded his head and quickly whipped up the order, handing it to Alfred.

"That'll be three bucks, kid," Benny said, setting the ice cream scooper down. Arthur pulled out his wallet to pay, but Alfred stopped him.

"No way, dude, I'm paying for you," Arthur rolled his eyes and proceeded to pull out a 5 dollar bill from his wallet, but Alfred snatched the wallet from his hands and held it up in the air as high as he could. Arthur growled at Alfred, jumping up as he tried to reach the wallet, but to no avail; the American was too tall.

Alfred started laughing while Benny sat there, waiting for some form of payment, with a monochrome look on his face. Apparently he was used to Alfred as well.

Arthur latched his arms around Alfred's neck and began to climb the boy like a mountain, intent on getting his wallet. He'd wrapped his legs around Alfred's waist just as he felt another set of arms wrap around his back and the American. Whoever it was smelled… they smelled…

They smelled French. Arthur's fears were confirmed as a small laugh was let out, but a French accent was definitely in the seemingly innocent laugh.

"Alfred, mon ami! You did not tell me zat your new friend was so lovely!" A head nuzzled its way against Arthur's neck; the Brit could feel stubble on the chin and neck of his attacker.

"Oh, you are rather darling, oui?" Arthur yanked his head away from the French attacker, but the arms were still latched around him, preventing him from climbing to his wallet.

"Alright, ice cream is on the house if you'll all go sit down," Benny grumbled. Alfred grabbed the ice cream with one hand and started to walk back over to the table; Arthur still gripped around his chest. The boy had let go of Arthur's back and was now in view of the Briton. The Frenchmen had longer hair, and it was quite obvious he hadn't shaved in some time. His clothes were entirely fashionable, a nice set of black slacks and a deep purple shirt that wasn't buttoned up all the way, exposing his chest. He wore a black jacket on top of the suit, possibly tailored. It was by no means formal… yet formal at the same time.

It was so French.

Arthur never liked Frenchies. They always tried to outdo British culture and always had to be up to date on trends; and on top of that they loved food, but thought nothing of British food, saying that it was disgusting. They were everything Arthur despised in life, the exact opposite of him; and now there was one standing right in front of him.

He could be civilized about this; he wouldn't cause problems for Alfred… so long as the other boy didn't touch him. The Brit released himself from the taller boy's chest, took the ice cream, and went back to his seat. But said Frenchie had to follow him, sitting next to him and wrapping his arm across Arthur's shoulders.

"Mon cher, let us hear your voice, s'il vous plaît," the Frenchmen had a soothing, lovely voice, but to Arthur it sounded like nails on a chalkboard. Arthur started to eat the ice cream, which was rather delicious, showing no sign of even hearing the other boy.

"Let us start with names then, oui? Je suis Francis Bonnefoy, friend, son, but mostly lover," he continued.

Arthur could handle one Frenchmen. He could do it if he tried. Slowly, he let the ice cream melt in his mouth before shoving the arm off of him and answering.

"My name is Arthur Kirkland," he said, power strong in his voice. Francis' eyes lighted up as the Brit spoke, and Arthur was immediately on the defense for groping or seducing.

"Zat is a British accent, non?! Oh, what a beautiful day it is, mon ami… another European to join me in Amérique!"

"As long as you are in _America, _you should speak in English," he grumbled. Francis chuckled quietly as he leaned towards Arthur.

"But, mon cher, ladies love French boys; men, too. They love British boys, also, just let them hear your accent," he smiled passionately. Arthur rolled his eyes and pushed Francis' head away from him.

"Francis, lay off of Artie, will ya? I don't want him to be freaked out by your French-ness," Alfred said, coming out of his conversation with the Spaniard for a moment.

"Too late for that," Arthur grumbled, continuing to eat his ice cream. He instead focused on listening to the conversation of Liz and Bell, and then getting weirded out by the topic, listening to Alfred and Antonio talk about the World Cup for soccer. Arthur actually gave some comments on this; soccer was a sport he was familiar with. Francis and Matthew struck up a conversation, but it was in French, to Arthur's shock. He hadn't known Matthew was fluent in the bastard language.

-PANDA BEAR-

It was one ice cream cup later that Antonio had gone, Liz and Bell following his lead not soon after. Arthur got up and followed Alfred and Matthew, Francis following him. Every now and then the fashionable boy would try to wrap his arms around Arthur, only to be hit in the face – or on one occasion the groin. Eventually they came upon Arthur's house, and after thanking Alfred, the Brit bounded into his house, intent on putting curses on the Frenchmen.

Ice cream was fun. He found out Antonio's parents were from Spain, and every summer they spent a month there. Francis had nothing of interest to Arthur, and Matthew was Alfred's step brother. Liz and Bell enjoyed asking Arthur some rather absurd questions, to which the Brit would stumble as he tried to answer. Minus the Frenchmen, unusual questions, and sitting on Alfred's brother, it was rather fun.

One question still remained, though: the kiss. Alfred was intent on making sure Arthur got his first kiss. The problem was, the more and more time Arthur spent around the American, and the more and more time he spent thinking about it, the more he realized he just wanted to kiss Alfred and not a girl. But he still didn't know:

Did Alfred want to kiss him?

* * *

(((This was going to be the next chapter, but because it's so short I decided to add it on to chapter 6.)))

"Mom, I have something I need to talk about," Arthur said as he took a seat next to his mother on the couch. His mother slipped a blue bookmark into her novel and set it on the side table; reading was her favorite pastime.

"Talk away, honey," his mother stated as she pulled off her reading glasses and set them on top of the book. Arthur shifted his feet so he was sitting cross-legged on the couch, his hands clasped together on his lap.

"Well, um, it's kind of a weird topic," he continued, scratching his head through the blonde locks. His mother crossed her legs, making her look like a professional counselor as she waited for her son to continue.

"It's about Alfred…" he started. "I was wondering if its… normal to want to kiss your best friends?" he stuttered slightly, not sure how his mother would react. How she did though, Arthur could have never been prepared for.

The woman had clasped her hand around her mouth, but you could tell she was laughing. She placed her other hand around her stomach as she tried to calm down. Arthur was confused; why was his mom laughing? What was funny?

"Oh my god… where's my phone? I have to tell Terry I was right!" she guffawed, and continued until it was clear Arthur was going to explode from frustration.

"Ok, Arthur, let us start out with the basics. There's nothing wrong with kissing Alfred, or wanting to kiss another boy in general, but you need to slow down and think: 'is this just a phase I'm going through?' If it is, it's not worth ruining your friendship. But… if you still like him in… we'll say two weeks, and you still want to kiss him," she slowed into a dramatic pause.

"Then what?" Arthur asked.

"Then Terry owes me twenty dollars," she started laughing again. Arthur rubbed his head with his hands in frustration, waiting for his mother to calm down.

"If you still want to kiss him in two weeks, then we'll talk again. That reminds me, is that why you slept with him during that one sleepover?" she asked her son. Arthur shook his head no.

"I was scared from the movies," he muttered, looking away from his mother.

"Of course, Arthur; I totally don't think you have a hidden motive," she chuckled as she picked up her book again, leaving Arthur frustrated while he thought about it all. His mother always did things like this to him… not because she was heartless, but she knew that Arthur could figure it out on his own.

* * *

Ok guys, gots lots of stuff.

1) Sorry for the epically long wait on the posting of this chapter. This is due to minor writer's block, a vacation, and author having mental breakdown. I'm all ok now, though!

2)Bell = Belgium if you haven't figured it out. Most people call her Bella, but the reason I do not is simple: one is that my friend who is a good source told me Bella is a Mexican name; and two, Bella is my stupid dog's name. So, sexy lady compared to retarded dog... no.

On top of that I would like to add my first 6 years of my life were in Dutch culture. If my perspective of a Belgian is different, apologies. Blame my father for that. I still am a die-hard American, though B|

And to all you Belgians, you guys are cool. Good waffles, brethren.

3) Other pairings, guys! Tell me what you would want. I don't mind adding in more characters (there still will be more to come). if you like, Jeanne d'arc can come in! Franada, RoChu, Spamano, etc! The most important would be... AusHun or PruHun. Tell me which you would prefer. I am fine with most couples, but I want the majority of you to like side pairings! USUK will still be the main pairing, but its nice to see other pairings within the group :3 If I end up not putting a couple in that you want, and you're really _really_ heartbroken over it, PM me and I might make a small oneshot for said couple for you. Depends on my time... I guess.

4) Francis' French, and soon other characters. Please tell me if I use the phrases to much. I've had 3 years of Spanish ((though I've never used vosotros)), and I know some french. I know a little Russian, and a little less Chinese. Some Japanese as well. but the point is, I will scale down the usage of different languages if you feel it distracts from the story! Just in case you've got no French under your belt, this is what Francis said:

mon ami: my friend

oui: yes. (it sounds like Wii. As in that game system.)

mon cher: my dear

s'il vous plaît: If you please/ please

Je suis Francis Bonnefoy: I am Francis Bonnefoy

Amérique: America. (I'm sorry, but if you didn't get that one... see your local doctor.)

And if you are 100% fluent in this language and would like to cut me down on my supposed skills, please do. Everything besides my Spanish are things I've learned from music, video games, and anime. I can't be sure I'm using all of these right. Google translate agreed with me, so... :/ I will never use a full sentence of another language, because i know from expierence that it distracts from the story, not adds to the character. But little things here and there, I believe add to the character.

5) did you catch the lemon pun I put into the story? Oh yeah, I'm just that fabulous.

6) How am I doing in le writing skills? I feel as if I improved... but I can never be so sure. Imagery is the hardest for me...

To all those who reviewed already, you gave me the strength to write this chapter! I love all the help you have offered me and the praises that I probably don't deserve! You guys are amazing! *Le virtual pat on the back for you guys*

Thanks to MagicInTheDark for helping me with little bits and pieces of this chapter.

That should be all...

-Fire


	7. Chapter 7

Characters do not belong to me.

* * *

"So…" Alfred said, breaking the silence. They were in Arthur's basement, playing Halo 4 to their heart's content. Alfred had seemed pretty sidetracked the whole time, but then again, it was Alfred.

Arthur sniped down another man before answering his friend.

"So… what?" he prodded Alfred. There was another silence as the round ended in victory for them and a new game was started. Alfred relaxed as he finally willed himself to speak.

"What do you think of Liz and Bell?" Alfred asked. The Briton bit his lip; they were nice friends, both happy and energetic. But that was it; he didn't think anything more of them. Besides… he still had thoughts about a certain American, and he was pretty sure Liz and Bell didn't like him like _that_.

"They're nice," he answered, killing someone with a mêlée attack on the game. All these wankers on the live didn't know how to play.

"Do you like them, though? They both seemed to like you enough, if you made a move I'm sure they would accept," the American said. Arthur bit his lip; it had been one week now; his mother had said to wait two weeks. Sure enough, he still wished he could do something about his wants to kiss Alfred. But he trusted his mother and would wait for the two weeks to pass and hear what she had to say.

"I don't think so. Besides, I don't think they like me like that," he murmured, a grumble following as someone killed him on the game.

"I think they would, dude. Besides your caterpillar eyebrows, you're pretty good-looking," Alfred said, and the shorter boy couldn't stop the little flutters that came through his chest. This was what his mother had called a 'crush'.

"And if you're still not sure, I could introduce you to some more girls that way you get the feel of what you like, you know?" Alfred grinned in the corner of Arthur's eyes. But suddenly an idea occurred in his mind.

"What do _you_ like, Alfred?" The Englishman watched as the baseball player's eyebrows knitted together, thinking over the question Arthur had proposed to him.

"I haven't really thought about it, you know? Like, Megan Fox and all those chicks seem pretty hot, but I'm not famous, so that doesn't matter. I've kissed some of the girls at my school, but there wasn't really a spark." He frowned slightly. "I guess I'm just waiting for the right person to come around."

They sat in silence for the rest of the round, Arthur contemplating what Alfred had said. _Person,_ he had said; not girl. Did that mean…? No, Arthur didn't think so. Hopeless wishing, it was.

"We'll figure it out in the end though, both of us. Y'know, find us a nice girl and such to be with," Alfred murmured as the next game online started. Arthur got first kill instantly, right before the other team got two kills and took them in the lead.

"Yeah, something like that," Arthur said. He couldn't wait to hear what his mother had to say in a week. In the meantime he had to go to a movie with Alfred and his friends this Wednesday. One week shouldn't be that bad… shouldn't.

ERMAHGAWEDPAGEBREAK

Arthur walked down the street in a nice strolling fashion, his black coat on; it was getting colder and colder every day. Most the leaves had fallen off trees.

He wasn't going anywhere specific, just a nice stroll. It was Tuesday, and tomorrow he had to go to the movies with Alfred and others. It was an event he was looking forward to yet wishing he didn't have to go at the same time. In the meantime he took a walk to calm his thoughts; the sounds of birds chirping and rustling leaves had a calming effect on him. Of course, there was always the thoughts of the American that would distress him once again; he still did not know what do with them.

He took a turn on the paved sidewalk, and was surprised to see what he saw; Francis crouching by a bush with a set of sleek-looking binoculars in his hand. He was looking into the park behind his house; the one where Alfred had taught the Brit how to play baseball. Arthur peered into the distance, trying to see what Francis was looking at; he could see the figures of three people towards the back of the park.

Quietly he walked behind Francis; as always, the Frenchie was fashionable with black slacks, a light grey shirt, and a black vest on top of that. Sitting upon his head was a sleek black fedora to top off the look.

"What in the bloody hell are you looking at?" Francis jumped at the sound of Arthur standing behind him, the binoculars almost slipping from his hands.

"Arthur, mon dieu! Don't be so creepy, mon ami!" he gasped as he tightened his grip on the binoculars.

"I'm not your mon ami, or whatever. What are you looking at?" Arthur asked again. Francis rolled his eyes like the Brit was a bother and sighed dramatically. He handed the binoculars to Arthur and pointed into the distance where the figures were.

Arthur pressed the binoculars up to his eyes and looked at the figures; one was Elizaveta, who was balancing a soccer ball underneath her arm and laughing. Another was Bell, who had her arms bent and fingers laced behind her head, a happy grin on her face. The last was a girl Arthur did not recognize – she had short brown hair and a light smile on her face.

"Mon cher, Arthur; ze lovely girl next to our dear friends," he murmured quietly as he stood up from his crouch. Bell said something to Liz and Francis' _cher_, making the other two girls laugh.

"What, you like her? So why can't you use some of that stuff you call French charm on her and live happily ever after?" Arthur asked while handing the binoculars back to Francis. Instead of using them again, he let his hand fall limp, allowing the binoculars to hang at his side.

"I tried, mon ami," Francis sighed. Arthur raised an eyebrow at this. As much as he hated to admit it, Francis was very good in matters of the heart. As far as Alfred had told him, many of the girls at their school had a thing for the Frenchie. Why, Arthur would never understand. He smelled so gross and never shaved.

"What do you mean, _you tried_?" Arthur questioned. A light smile graced Francis' face as he looked up in remembrance.

"I mean exactly zat. I tried to ask her on a date at school; most girls would take me up on zat gracious offer. Ma belle, however, punched me in the stomach," he answered. Arthur started cracking up as Francis said this. That was _priceless._ Finally, a girl to knock the Frenchman off his high stool!

"I like her already," Arthur smirked. Francis shoved him lightly.

"You are mistaken, Arthur. She is not like ze other girls I have tried to seduce," he groaned and rubbed his head. Arthur looked at his frenemy.

"What, she's not some random girl you find that you want to make out with and then dump?" Arthur continued. Francis shook his head.

"She was the first person to reject me. For some reason, zat only makes me want to chase after her more, even though zere are many girls at my school…" he drifted out, looking up at the clouds. Arthur watched the three girls in the distance start to play with the ball Liz had previously been holding.

"So you like her. You like a lot of girls," Arthur said.

"Non, Arthur. I enjoy spending time with many girls, and I love a good make out session. Zat is just lust… Jeanne is much more than that to me," he breathed, his eyes sparkling.

"So you stalk her and her friends," Arthur continued to pester him. Francis grumbled something in French.

"I don't know what to do about her. I have never been rejected." Francis said. Arthur sighed quietly; what a perfect way to ruin his walk – place a Frenchmen on the sidewalk.

"What makes you so drawn to her?" Arthur asked. Francis shoved one of his hands into his pocket.

"If I knew… Perhaps it is because she is French like me, or her high spirits and free will… her smile is beautiful as well… elle est très belle," he murmured. Arthur shook his head. Damn bastard language…

"Francis, obviously this girl doesn't want you because she doesn't want to become just _another girl_. You have to show her you think she's special," Arthur told the French boy, who just chuckled.

"She said something similar to that after she punched me… _si vous avez vraiment comme moi, Francis, coure après moi_," he said, making Arthur groan.

"English, Francis. English," he said; the boy looked over at him like he was shocked.

"Right, I forget you do not know the language of l'amour. 'If you truly like me, Francis, run after me'." Arthur rolled his eyes. Honestly, he thought Francis was smarter than this. I mean, he was French, but even Frenchmen are a little smarter than that.

"So run after her!" he said. Francis chuckled.

"I suppose I will. Merci, Arthur," he said, clasping his hand around the Englishmen's shoulder.

Arthur sighed. If only it were that easy for him; Francis had it rather easy, in reality.

"Oh, mon ami, I suppose I should ask… do you like our American friend?" Francis grinned; it was his turn to talk about Arthur. The Brit, however, now had a furious blush over his face and was mumbling something about how they were just close friends, but Francis cut him off.

"It is not hard to see in ze eyes of an expert. If you need any help in matters of l'amour, I am always happy to help you, oui?" Francis winked at him, sending chills through Arthur that made him want to drill his eyes out – just to never see this nasty Frenchie wink again.

"Says the boy who's looking at his lovely through a set of binoculars," Arthur scoffed, but smiled; help was something he could use now. Francis chuckled as he pulled his hand off the other's shoulder.

"Now shoo, Anglais, on with your walk so I may gaze at mon cher in peace," Francis said before shoving Arthur away.

* * *

So... this was more or less a chapter to show that Arthur is indeed becoming more social, as is shown by him pestering Francis. (Sorry for there being like 13 seconds of Alfred in here.)

Between the PM's I got and the reviews... Spamano. Like, Spamano everywhere. France x Jeanne d'arc and Franada was only off by like 2 or 3 votes, but I guess it's better so they're not all gay :/ Lol, everybody is gay in Hetalia.

Sorry if you guys wanted to see more progress in Al and Arthur's relationship :/ I am working towards it, never fear! Thank you for reading this BS I pass for a story O_o I love you all macho :3 And if you feel like I'm missing something in my story (I have been working towards more detail and longer chapters, guys! I hope I'm improving in all of your eyes), please tell me.

GUYS, PLEASE, reviews are nicer than likes or follows! I have more follows than dislikes and I want to hear opinions! It really helps/boosts my confidence/ (if a flame) gives me another perspective on my story!

But yes, thank you all for reading. You guys are the freaking best. Today's shout out is to people in... Australia. Cool koalas, brethren B|


	8. Chapter 8

Characters do not belong to me. They would be gay if I did...

* * *

"Thanks again for the ride, mom," Arthur said as he stepped out of the car. His mother smiled and nodded.

"Have fun with your boyfriend, Arthur," she smirked as she teased her son. The Brit blushed furiously as his mother said this; honestly, he never thought his mother would be one to tease him.

"Mom, he's not my boyfriend, I've already told you," he hissed; his mother just started laughing.

"That reminds me, honey, if you two need any con-" Arthur slammed the car door shut to relieve himself from the teasing. It was when he saw the window rolling down so his mother finished, Arthur bolted in to the movie theater as fast as he could.

"Remember Arthur, protection is key!" he heard his mother shout, and the Brit spared a look back; Several people had turned their eyes to the now pulling away car, either offended or confused by what his mother had said. Sometimes his mother just loved to be weird like that.

Arthur had been in the movie theater before; the wall was painted a dark gray, and it was alive and busy with many people. Just across from where he was standing at the doors was the ticket purchasing; it took up the top left corner. In the top right was the hallway leading to the theaters, disappearing from the Englishman's view. Concessions were available on the other half of the counter, though Arthur was never one for movie foods.

Standing in front of him was Alfred… just Alfred. Slowly he walked up to the American, who smiled when he saw Arthur.

"Am I early?" Arthur asked. Alfred grinned and shook his head no. He had a large drink in his hand and was wearing a Captain America t-shirt.

"Well… it kind of goes like this… the Spaniard disappeared for unknown reasons and Bell got sick… Liz ended up going to her new boyfriend's piano competition – apparently he is playing in the state competitions or something like that. Francis said he couldn't come because he was going with Jeanne, and it was something he couldn't miss or Jeanne would think badly of him; or something like that," Alfred smiled sheepishly as he finished the statement.

Arthur felt his heart beat faster as Alfred said this. Great… maybe his mother had kidnapped all the other kids just so Arthur would have a heart attack. But he mustered a smile on his face, doing away with the thoughts of his mother tampering with their plans.

"Their loss, right?" he replied, to which Alfred grinned.

"Yeah, dude. So… they just came out with this new movie about this really cool super hero that can shoot lasers out of his eyes and he can punch bricks and stuff! So I know you aren't into the whole super hero thing but can we please please go see it?!" The American said really quickly. Arthur ran his hands through his hair as if to relieve stress.

"Sounds good, let's go," he said. They purchased their tickets from a nice lady and Alfred bought the largest popcorn they had available at the theater. Alfred grinned and ran to the right movie theater, somehow not spilling the popcorn or drink and sitting in a seat. Arthur sighed like this was annoying, but as soon as he sat down he smiled just a little; nobody could see him in the dim movie theater.

Arthur was, in all honesty, jumpy on the inside. He felt so giddy for being alone with the American in an almost romantic setting. Alfred didn't notice, but to him it was just two friends hanging out; but Arthur, though he knew they were just friends, couldn't help but wonder _what if…_

The movie started, and Arthur partially watched; it was the same routine Hollywood got away with using over and over, but they just switched the characters – people in danger, normally on public traffic, and the superhero comes and saves them. Then the bad guy is revealed and superhero gets beaten up until the end, where he beats the bad guy and finally save their maiden.

_I wonder,_ Arthur thought; _Alfred is so infatuated with being the hero. Perhaps I could be his maiden… wait, that's too girly… I could be his… Brit… that he comes and saves; Wishful thinking, however._ _He probably doesn't even like me like that._

LEDERPYPAGEBREAK

Once the movie had gotten out, Alfred could only talk about how cool it was the superhero ended up using mirrors to kill the bad guy and how cool it would be if he had laser eyes. They walked out of the movie theater when the American finally remembered something.

"Dude, you've gotta come see this," Alfred said before grabbing the Brit's wrist and dragging him to the middle of the parking lot, slipping his hands over Arthur's eyes and slowly guiding him somewhere. Alfred stopped his movement, but didn't uncover his eyes.

"You ready for this?" Alfred asked, his mouth close enough Arthur could feel his breath. The Brit shivered slightly before nodding his head. The baseball player removed his hands from his green eyes, and slowly Arthur opened them.

In front of him was nothing but cars; a nice sleek black one, and a red one. In between them sat an older truck.

"Alfred… all I see is cars," he said slowly, unsure of his friend's sanity. He took a double take, looking for anything out of the ordinary.

"That's what you're looking for, Artie. This truck is mine as of two days ago," he smiled and patted the car; a loud echo-like sound emitted from it.

Arthur's eyes widened. His parents trusted him with a car? It wasn't a super nice car, though; a faded red truck that was rusting in one or two places, but it was actually nice. The wheels looked brand new, and so did the windows; it looked previously washed as well.

"It fits you," Arthur murmured, reaching out to touch it. "When did you get a license?" he asked as he gently stroked it.

"Just a couple months ago, but I barely got this. It might not be the best thing on the lot, but it works, and I look pretty damn sexy driving around in it," he grinned. Arthur rolled his eyes and shoved him playfully to cover up his small blush.

"You want a ride home?" He asked. "It's fine; you don't live that far away, so it won't be a hassle. Plus then you don't have to call your mom and wait," he offered.

"That would be nice, actually, if it's not too much of a bother," he said. Arthur started walking towards the passenger door, but Alfred slipped passed him, opening the door for him.

"After you~" he grinned. Arthur rolled his eyes, but took a seat in the pickup truck; inside it smelled like old leather, probably due to the old seats. Alfred had put a car freshener in his car, and Arthur read the flavor written on the side: _American scent._That sounded like his type of air freshener.

Alfred shut the passenger and marched over to the driver's seat, climbing into the seat and plugging the keys in. He twisted them and the car erupted in a loud growl before he backed out, hitting the road and driving back to Arthur's house.

Arthur smiled a little; the car, although it appeared rather sad at first, was very nice. Alfred cranked on the radio, putting it on a pop station.

"I'll admit it, Alfred; I didn't think you had it in you to drive," Arthur grinned, but Alfred rolled his eyes. Truth be told, the American looked extremely comfortable behind the wheel. Arthur watched as he put one arm out the window casually, the other holding the steering wheel nonchalantly. Arthur was mildly scared because he didn't have two arms behind the wheel and wasn't doing certain things.

"I'm actually pretty good at it, dude. You judge me too harshly," he said. The Brit just smiled and believed him when they pulled into the driveway at his house safely. Again, as if convinced he had to open the door for Arthur, Alfred jumped out of the car and sprinted to the other side. He pulled the door open for Arthur.

"Well aren't you just a gentleman," Arthur remarked with a hint of sarcasm in his voice. Alfred smiled and tipped a metaphoric hat.

"I try," he smirked. It was about that moment when they heard Francis screaming, making them both turn their heads. Francis was on the sidewalk, his hands on his knees, panting hard. In front of him was Jeanne, who was smirking.

"C'mon, Francy, you promised me you would run after me," she said before she smiled. Looking closer, Jeanne hadn't broken a sweat, while Francis' shirt was covered in it. He was breathing hard and looked close to death while Jeanne had a calm breathing rate, as if the jogging didn't bug her.

"I meant zat metaphorically, mon cher!" he gasped. Jeanne rolled her eyes.

"You can do it," she said before starting up into a jog again. Francis sighed dramatically before picking up the jog, though it was not as graceful as Jeanne's run; his running shoes dragged on the sidewalk and he was going much slower.

Arthur and Alfred watched the scene, staring on in awe. They watched as the two joggers – well, one jogger and one lazy Frenchmen hyperventilating – until they turned a corner on the sidewalk.

"Well, now we know what Francis ditched us for," Arthur mused.

* * *

Hallo guys... I hope you picked up on the subtle AusHun I placed in here. I will make it more pronounced later, rest assured.

This story has been mildly slow, and it might be for one or two more chapters, but I have a nice twist coming in here soon...

Thank you for reading! I have to say, I couldn't describe a specific movie because in a year or two that movie will be out of style, and the cars; in America and a couple other places, we drive on the right side. In most other places... it's the left. so even the interior of the car is different, like what side the driving wheel is on. I picked the most American car I could think of: a rusty pickup truck that smelled like old leather, despite the "american scent" air freshener.

I had somebody point out to me I hadn't clarified how old they were, though if you didn't pick up it with the car, they are around 16-17. Thanks to the person who pointed out so~!

Reviews and other things are always yay. and... you go, people in Switzerland. Cool cheese, brethren B|


	9. Chapter 9

Characters are not mine. Well, besides Arthur's mom. NOT MINE.

* * *

Alfred and Antonio sat in the dugout, watching Ludwig instruct his German Shepard to find the last baseball for the day. They were covered in sweat; they'd played harder than normal today, and their water bottles were almost empty now because of it.

Out in the distant field they saw the fully grown dog find the last ball, picking it up and running back to where Ludwig stood next to home base. It was a fast runner, and soon had dropped the ball in the pile of the other balls. Ludwig nodded to the duo in the dugout before clipping a leash to the dog's collar and walking out of the field, the dog staying loyally at his side.

Antonio ran a hand through his hair, noting how damp the hair was from sweat; Alfred had helped him practice a new move in soccer today, and it had really drained him out. It didn't, however, distract him from what was on his mind.

"Alfred," he started. Alfred was taking a drink from his water bottle, sucking as much out as he could. The blonde haired boy looked over at his friend, waiting for him to continue.

"I… I need to tell you something," Alfred's eyebrows knit together as the Spaniard said this.

"Please don't go all 'I have cancer' or 'I'm dying in 3 weeks' on me, dude," The American said as he pulled the water bottle away from his mouth.

"No, no… it's not that. It's more like… I'm gay," he said, rather slowly. The blonde made no weird face, or anything, rather just took another gulp from his water bottle before answering.

"So what? It's not like I'm gonna throw tomatoes at you for that. You're still Antonio, and gay or not, you're still my friend," Alfred answered. Antonio seemed rather relieved by this, as if he had expected his friend to start attacking him with a baseball bat.

"That's good, I thought you should know, since your my amigo and all," the brunette said, taking a swig of his own water after.

It wasn't until they had drained their water bottles completely that they put the pile of baseballs into the bag – with a new one, of course, after Arthur had made Alfred give one up – and headed home.

ERMAHGAWDFISH

Arthur sat on the couch, waiting for his mother to finish what she was reading. It was Saturday; two weeks had passed since he told his mother he wanted to kiss Alfred. Now she was reading a book unbearably slow, letting time pass, even though Arthur had several thousand questions. It seemed she enjoyed this too much, making Arthur wait, that is.

The 16-year-old watched as his mother slowly pressed the bookmark into her book and set it in her lap, as if she expected to pick it up again soon. She took a deep long breath, looking over at Arthur with serious eyes.

"I'm sure you know why I've called you here today, Agent Kirkland," her face lit up in a smile as Arthur pressed his face into his palm, a groan erupting from him.

"Sorry, Arthur, I just couldn't resist to piss you off," she chuckled. "Now, anyways, as you know, it's been two weeks since we talked about your little crush on Alfred." The blonde boy nodded at his mother. His face was monotone.

"Arthur, don't have such a straight face on; you are gay, after all," she laughed at her pun while her son looked ready to rip apart a pillow with his teeth.

"Sorry, sorry, I just love to do that to you. Now, let's try to get serious here," she said, tapping her fingers on the hardback cover of her book.

"Take your own advice, mum," he grumbled, but the woman seemed not to notice.

"Now, Arthur. You obviously like Alfred. But you need to think for one moment – is it really worth risking your friendship for a more intimate relationship?" she asked her son. The boy rubbed the back of his head, processing his mother's words before answering.

"Yes, I am willing to do so," he said, his voice strong. His mother smiled as her son said this.

"Good, because the rest is up to you," she smiled kindly while her son had a look of confusion on his face.

"What do you mean, I'm by myself now?" Arthur asked slowly. His mother sighed a little, as if she wasn't sure how to make it more clearly to the teenager.

"Arthur, you are 16 now – I have gotten you a private tutor because of how fast you learn and how you detest public school, and you've never really _liked_ anyone before. But this is something every kid, every boy and girl, must experience for themselves. I will be here for help, but you need to do this on your own." She told him. Arthur started pulling at his hair.

"Why did you make me wait two weeks for this?" he groaned. His mother smiled sheepishly.

"Well, I was going to try to mentally prepare you for all of this, and tell you what to do; but now thinking it over twice, my parents had me do the same thing. Dating is something every kid does; getting dumped is part of it. Now, the whole experience is one hell of a bitch, but in the end, you'll be happy, I promise. Oh, and before you go on your laptop and look up what to do, just remember it's easier said than done," she said before standing up, book in hand, and walking out of the room.

Arthur pulled at his hair harder, a half-growl, half-groan emitting from him. Two weeks, just for his mother to tell him he was on his own. It seemed she found much joy in pestering him. How hard could it be to tell the American, though?

Very hard… every time Alfred was around the Brit had a hard time breathing. He would wait a while, and see if he could find out more about the boy he was so infatuated with. For now, however, a re-read of the Harry Potter series sounded so very nice, so Arthur retreated to his bedroom for the night, thoughts filled about how nice it would be to go to Hogwarts. Maybe Alfred could come, too; he would like Quidditch.

* * *

Okey guys, thank you to all who review. And if you were wondering, how Arthur's mom acted is exactly how I wrote the chapter - the first time I wrote this chapter, I had Arthur's mom walk him through everything he should do and how she would do it; but when I read over it, I realized that would make the story end much faster than I wanted it to, so this new version of chapter nine was born, and i must say, I like it much better.

Thank you to all who review! Reviews fuel me, guys. I love it when I wake up and check the story and see all the new reviews I've gotten. Thank you all for your lovely (and funny, in some cases) words!

I MUST SAY THIS - I have decided on the couples already. So... yeah... voting closed, I guess. But thank you for sharing your opinions; some of them really helped, actually. And... Malaysia. Cool beaches, bretheren B| For all yalls that don't know Malaysia, go get on Google Earth. Yeah.

I love you all :D Thanks for reading!


	10. Chapter 10

Characters do not belong to me.

* * *

Arthur opened the door of the house, looking out to see who it was; he hadn't planned on having anyone over today; it could have been a solicitor, for all he knew. It wasn't though; it was his closest friend, who was grinning as he looked at Arthur.

Alfred walked through the door of Arthur's house, not waiting for an ok from Arthur; a box was in his hands. He was holding it tightly; it was larger, and it required both of his hands to hold the cardboard.

"Alfred, you didn't tell me you were coming over," Arthur said. But the American made himself at home, bounding into his main room without waiting for the Brit to follow. It was the Saturday following thanksgiving; Arthur had spent much of the time with his mother, and now Alfred was here.

He liked to plan things, and know what was happening in his week; he was one of those people who enjoyed having a schedule. But Alfred, however, liked to come over unannounced sometimes, or he would decide to go to a smoothie shop or something else that required him to get in the car, just so that he could drive around with Arthur.

Not that it really bugged the Brit.

Arthur closed the door and followed Alfred into the main room, where the baseball player was having a conversation with his mother. But they stopped as soon as he walked in, both looking at Arthur. His mother had a perfectly straight face as she turned her head back to her book, but Alfred was biting his lip to keep from smiling. Something was up.

"You guys aren't telling me something," Arthur pouted. Alfred grinned ecstatically, though, while his mother pretended not to notice.

"Sit on the couch and close your eyes, Artie," Alfred said. The Brit slowly walked to his leather couch, sitting on the opposite side that his mother was on. Slowly, he closed his eyes. He heard his mother chuckle and the sound of Alfred messing around with the cardboard box. Then there was silence for a small moment.

"Open your eyes, Arthur," Alfred murmured, and Arthur did as he was told. Alfred was in front of him, holding his arms out; and in his hands, he was holding a small, gray kitten.

It took Arthur one moment to process what was in front of him. Then, slowly, he lifted his shaky hands up and took the gray kitten from Alfred's hands, setting the little cat into his lap.

"Wait, Arthur, go stand next to Alfred with the cat," his mother said. Arthur slowly picked up the kitten; it was still very young; it could fit in his hands perfectly. He stood next to Alfred as his mother produced a red digital camera, turning it on and pointing it at the two boys.

"Stand a little closer, Arthur," Arthur did as his mother asked, stepping closer to his friend.

"Okay, now Alfred, put your arm around him," oh. _Now_ the Brit got what his mother was doing. But he felt Alfred's long arm wrap around him, making him flush to a deeper pink.

"Now Arthur lean your head into his shoulder," she continued, adjusting her hands on the camera.

"Mum," Arthur protested, but his friend cut him off.

"No, it's fine," Alfred grinned, and using his arm he pushed Arthur's head onto his shoulder. Now the Brit was flushed red.

"Perfect; now you look like a happy little family," Arthur wished he had some way to shut his mother up. But Alfred just laughed in agreement with his mother, adding to the embarrassing pain the Briton was going through.

"Yeah, Artie, we're married," he said as he turned his head and pressed his lips to the side of Arthur's head. The shorter boy almost dropped the cat, and his mother managed to flash the camera before Alfred pulled his head away from the mini kiss. Now, now the American had done it. His mother will never let him off on this one.

Arthur turned his head away from Alfred, letting his furious blush die down. He shuffled to the couch and sat down, examining the new cat he had gotten. It was still a baby, and its gray fur was soft and fluffy; Arthur could tell it was a boy, and it had ice blue eyes that flickered occasionally.

"You shall be William, and you shall be my cat; a handsome cat you will be," Arthur said out loud. Slowly he stroked the back of the kitten, which started purring and rubbing his head against the hand.

"Aww, he likes you," Alfred grinned. Arthur's mother, however, had opened up a book and had started reading it, but the small, mischievous grin from earlier had stayed. The American sat down in between the two, leaning over and joining Arthur in stroking the purring cat. William rolled onto his back, allowing the two boys to rub his belly while his eyes closed in content.

The next thing they heard was a camera flick as Arthur's mother had stuck her hand out with the camera, taking a picture of the duo petting the cat. She pulled the camera back and looked at the picture, her smile growing.

"Sorry boys, you two just look so cute right now," Alfred smiled while Arthur lowered his head down. Maybe he should have just not told his mother; it would have spared him from all the pictures and the teasing. He loved his mom, and he knew his mom wasn't being serious, but for god's sake she was ridiculous sometimes.

"It's totally fine," Alfred said, focusing on the cat again. William was purring even louder now, the two large hands rubbing all the right spots. The two watched as the kitten closed his eyes again in delight.

"He's so cute," Alfred grinned, arching his fingers to use more pressure on the kitten's belly. Arthur nodded in agreement, caught in a trance from the cat.

Then suddenly William flipped back onto his paws and jumped off the couch, with much more coördination than most young cats have. Slowly he made his way to what used to be Winston's litter box.

"How did he know where the litter box was already?" Arthur asked. He watched William as the cat dug around and did his business before covering it with the cat litter. Come to think about it, his mother had stored Winston's litter box, food bowl, and water dish underneath the counter after the cat had died.

"I had your mom introduce the cat to the house a yesterday while you were out on a walk," Alfred told the other boy.

"You guys planned this, then?" Arthur asked as William came back over and started walking around their legs in loops, rubbing against the shins now and then. The American shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly.

"No; it was my idea, but obviously I had to check with your mother to make sure she was fine with you having another cat. Otherwise I'd get you this totally cool cat and you wouldn't have been able to have it, you know?" Alfred answered him. Arthur nodded his head. Slowly, as scared as he was, he wrapped his arms around Alfred in a hug.

"Thank you, Alfred," he murmured, feeling the taller's set of arms wrap around him.

"I did kill Winston; it was the least I could do," he said. Suddenly another camera flash came from behind them, making them drop the hug and look around at Arthur's mother who was holding her digital camera once again.

"Sorry guys, but I really like to use this camera." She grinned.

ERMAHGAWEDPAGEBREAK

Alfred sighed as he pushed the keys into his front door, turning the metal and unlocking it; he pulled it out, opening the door, and stepped into his house. He was feeling down, but he couldn't figure out why; he'd just got back from hanging out with Arthur and his new cat, and believe it or not, William is really fun to play with. He'd felt happy, but for some reason, after leaving, he felt... lost.

Alfred lived in what could be called a miniature mansion. His parents were very wealthy, so his house had 3 floors to it; Matthew and him lived upstairs. Slowly Alfred ambled down the hallway until he met his staircase and started to climb it. Fourteen stairs total, as he had known since he moved in at the age of 8. He didn't really like his step mom, but he liked Matthew, and he always wanted a brother, so it worked out. Plus his dad was still there for him; he was the one that helped him fix up his truck so he could have it.

Instead of going to his room and playing Assassin's Creed, he decided to ask Matty if he wanted to go get some dinner with him. He walked past the door to his room and over to Matthew's, not knocking from habit. He wasn't really one to wait for the 'ok' to come in.

This was one of those times he wished he had.

His brother's room itself was fine; the Canadian flag was still up, as was the hockey posters, but on his bed Matthew was making out with... oh, that wasn't a girl... and there was only one person Alfred knew with pure white hair that said "kesesese..."

Alfred stood, dumbfounded, in Matthew's doorway, while the Canadian let Gilbert maul his neck. They hadn't even noticed him yet, due to his relative quietness this afternoon. He hadn't even known Mattie was gay, let alone Gilbert, who was the wide receiver on the Football team at his school. He'd always seen Gilbert as a manly man, not a... let's go eat Alfred's brother's neck type of person.

The American slowly backed out of the room and closed the door quietly, deciding Assassin's Creed sounded much better now.

* * *

Dawws, he got him a new cat :D

So I don't know if anybody really takes time to read these, but a chapter or two ago, I told you there was a twist coming. Well, there still is... just I realized there's a couple more things I need to put in before that can happen :/ Rest assured this just won't be a bunch of fluff. I will put interesting things in here if fluff doesn't interest you enough.

Not much today, rather than thank you all for the reviews, and continue to review!

To all those in... Italy - good pasta, brethren B|


	11. Chapter 11

If you haven't figured it out yet, I don't own these guys.

Small Warning: Alfred gets a boner in this chapter. You are forewarned.

* * *

Alfred grinned against Arthur's neck as he continued to suck it. Why hadn't they done this earlier? His hands reached down to pull off the sweater vest that the Brit was wearing. He moved his lips back to Arthur's, smiling as he kissed him. He slipped his tongue into the boy's mouth, rubbing it against Arthur's own.

Alfred rolled so he was now sitting on top of Arthur, and he could see the boy's green eyes filled with happiness. Oh, he looked so good right now. Alfred leaned down and clasped his teeth around the soft shell of the Brit's ear, licking it occasionally while Arthur clutched onto Alfred's black t-shirt.

They were in Alfred's bedroom right now, but he couldn't remember how they got there. They were just there. Alfred let go of Arthur's ear and sat up, grinning as he ripped his shirt off with ease; Arthur started touching the toned muscles he had from playing baseball, the green eyes marveling the skin.

That was about the moment Alfred woke up, covered in sweat. He ran his hand through his hair, feeling the sweat from the dream he'd just woken up from. He let out a small groan, turning on the small lamp he kept on his bedside dresser. His room lit up, and the American could see the faint outline of posters as the light went on. Some moonlight streamed in and helped as well.

_Why was I dreaming that? Let alone with Arthur?_ Sure, he'd had sexy dreams about like, Victoria Secret angels, but never with a guy, and never with Arthur. Did that mean something? Surely Arthur was fun to hang out with, and he was a good friend, but he'd never thought of him like that. Did that mean something? Like, yeah, Arthur was good-looking, but… he'd just dreamed about having a hot make out session with him. Was that normal to dream that about your best friend? He'd never had one about Antonio or Kiku…

Maybe it just had something to do with Antonio coming out to him, or maybe it was the fact he walked in on his brother making out with Gilbert, or maybe both. Maybe it was because he'd kissed Arthur's head that morning. His dreams were playing games on him just to piss him off and turn him on.

Damn; and he had a boner now as well. He didn't want to get up and jack off now, but that thing was not going away. So Alfred made his way as quietly as he could to the bathroom just across from his room, still trying to figure out why he'd dreamt that.

OHMAHGAWDPOTATOCHIPSDUDE

Alfred sat at breakfast with his Cocoa Puffs, munching delightfully as he watched his brother pour maple syrup on his pancakes. The sun was fully up, and sunlight was streaming in through the windows. Matthew was wearing a turtleneck, and one might question why, if one wasn't Alfred. The American was aware of why his brother had chosen to wear a turtle neck with his pajamas.

Matthew slowly made his way to the seat across from Alfred on their wooden table, sitting down and cutting into the pancakes with his silverware. Alfred waited until he saw that his brother was done chewing, before saying what he'd been thinking about since he woke up.

"So… You and Gilbert, huh?"

Alfred watched his brother's face grow red; Matthew lowered his head, not sure how to respond. He found out? How did he find out? The Canadian looked at his pancakes, realizing it looked less appetizing now that his brother knew.

"How did you find out?" Matthew murmured. Alfred ate another bite of Cocoa Puffs, the sound of his chewing echoing through the echoing kitchen.

"Oh, you know. I came home yesterday, and I was going to invite you to dinner. So I walked into your room, and behold – there was Gilbert, eating your neck. I closed the door, after, y'know; kinda lost my appetite so I just played Assassin's Creed for the night," he replied. Matthew rubbed his head nervously.

"Oh... that makes sense. So… uh, I'm gay, you know, and I'm dating Gilbert, and we've gotten kind of intimate. Don't tell our parents yet, please; I don't know how to say it, nor do I know how they will react to it," he frowned. Alfred understood; it wasn't like his parents would go GTFO on Mattie, but god knows exactly what they will say.

The American nodded his head in agreement before finishing off his delicious Cocoa Puffs and walking back to his room. The weather man said it would snow soon, which called for a snowball fight. That was good; Arthur's list was only complete.

It wasn't like Alfred would force Arthur to do all of those things, but to him it just felt like everybody should do those things before they became adults. Since Arthur was once a homeschooled freakazoid who made him take part in a cat funeral… yeah he'd needed help. But he was much better now. Alfred would take credit for that, really; he introduced the dude to video games.

Alfred grabbed one of his Xbox controllers off his desk and took a seat on his bed; he used the remote to turn on the TV opposite of the foot of his bed, then turned on the Xbox and sat down for some more Assassin's Creed, trying to ignore the thoughts he was having.

That was hard; he'd just found out his brother and best friend are gay in the same week – not that there was anything wrong with that, he'd just never expected it. Then there was his sexy dream with Arthur instead of a Victoria Secret angel; did that make him gay? He certainly still pictured women when jacking off… who knows. Maybe it was just his subconscious putting together events, and somehow that had happened. Yeah, that was definitely it.

_Give me a week or two to forget about it. I mean, Arthur doesn't think about me like that. I don't think so anyways. It was just a dream, yeah; nothing harmful. I'll be over it soon enough._

* * *

Oh, our dear Alfred had a kinky dream about his British friend, but that SO doesn't mean anything ;3

Dawws, our dear Matthew has fallen for Gilbert :D there you go, your daily dosage of PruCan.

Guys, I'm going to slow down my updates from now on; maybe like, one every other day minimum. This is the reason: I uploaded 2 chapters on Sunday. Actually, my whole Sunday was spent on the computer, and I need to start getting in shape soon so I don't fail epically when I have gym class next semester. 2) My chapters tend to be well-written if I mull over them a couple times rather than just posting them. 3)My grades have gone down drastically, and I have 5 end of semester projects I haven't even started on. Fanfiction is addictive :/ So yes, updates will slow down for my personal health.

For all of you that might not know:

GTFO means Get The Fuck Out.

A Victoria's Secret angel is a model for Victoria's Secret. They're basically really hot/sexy girls that get paid to run around in hot lingerie, and many guys I know jack off to them. True story.

Reviews are great, guys! Thank you all again for reviewing. To those of you in Mexico, cool dia de los muertos B| I actually think that's one of the coolest festivals in the world.


	12. Chapter 12

Don't own the characters. You know the drill.

* * *

Alfred hadn't even noticed what had happened until he stepped outside to get into his truck. He was about to drive to school, but then he noticed something peculiar he hadn't seen in almost a year.

A large blanket of snow covered, his front yard, his neighbor's yard, everywhere he could see. Snow plows had gone through to clear the streets, but other than that the snow was crystal clear, providing a new look to the world.

That also meant a snowball fight. A huge one, as well; it was Tuesday today, so if he sent out a text now, he could get a bunch of people to come. He slipped his phone out of his pocket, still standing on the porch, and typed up a quick message to send to multiple people.

_Yo, peeps! Snowball fight at Oak Park this Friday after school. Come if you can; maybe we can hit Starbucks after if we have enough cars. YOLO._

Grinning, he sent the text to as many people as he could before climbing into his rusty truck and driving to school.

HOLYROMANSHITDERPDERP

Arthur awoke to the small buzzing of his phone; it was a small, flip phone he'd never really used until he meant Alfred. The American loved to send him pointless texts and forwards just to annoyed him, it seemed. He always added weird things at the end, like "YOLO" or "TTYL" and such. Frankly, it annoyed the Brit, but he never brought it up.

Slowly he reached over to his desk, grabbing the phone and looking at the text. Apparently there was a snowball fight this Friday, and he was coming. He set the phone back, grumbling about how he didn't wake up for another 45 minutes.

"William," he grumbled; the Brit felt the small pitter patter of the kitten walking on his bed; he felt the cat jump over him, coming to settle on the pillow in front of his face. Smiling, Arthur reached a hand up to pet the cat's ear, making it purr, before pulling his covers up over him more and falling back to sleep.

OHMAHGAWDITSACOOKIE

Francis sat on the wooden bench that was just outside the ice cream shop. He didn't actually have a date with Jeanne, but he knew Jeanne's jogging route passed by here. She jogged miles every single day; how, Francis would never understand. A light blanket of snow covered the area now, but Benny and the others had been good at plowing it off the sidewalk.

He'd decided he'd intercept her and jog with her, go the 'extra mile'. See if that would help out. Jeanne seemed to finally be loosening up, but she still wasn't giving in. The Frenchmen had put roses in her backpack at school and slipped love notes into her locker, and she'd been happy about them, even held his hand occasionally, but was still hesitant to actually start dating him.

Francis sighed; he could understand her point of view. Ever since he was thirteen he'd been charming the ladies, and had gone out with many of the girls at school. He'd be lying if he said he still had his virginity. As much as he hated to admit it, Arthur had been right. Jeanne didn't just want to be another girl; Francis didn't want her to be either, but it was hard convincing her that he thought so.

The Frenchmen closed his eyes for just a small moment, trying to relax. He'd gotten better at running, but anything over a mile was still hard for him. If only he had legs like that Italian Feliciano – when it comes down to bailing out of something, he could run for miles. By the time Francis had opened his eyes again, there was something – well, someone – he did not want to see right now.

Roxanne, in all of her fake beauty was standing before him. She was a girl from school, who could be considered a slut. She wore too much makeup for Francis' liking, and what she wore was not stylish; it could not even be considered clothing. She had a small smile on her face; Francis wasn't sure whether to be appalled or not.

Before he'd been so infatuated with Jeanne, Francis was one to go to for a good time; it was known throughout the school. Even some teachers knew about his past time. Francis knew what Roxanne was here for, and he wasn't ready for this; he would turn her down.

Francis watched as Roxanne took a seat next to him on the bench, uncomfortably close. Suddenly Francis was annoyed with his decision to sit right on the edge of the bench, his arm on the small railing it provided.

"Hey, Francis," she started out. Francis bit his lip; ignoring her would be bad. Before, he would have been happy to have a passionate night with the lady next to him; she wasn't ugly at all. But he'd made a promise to Jeanne.

If it meant getting her heart, he'd keep it.

"Bonjour, Roxanne," Francis murmured. The girl beside him chuckled quietly and ran a hand through her red colored hair; Francis suspected that she dyed it to get that color. Before additions like that to one's beauty were normal to Francis… why did he find it so weird now?

Then it hit him; when Arthur had found out about his crush on Jeanne, he asked what he liked about the girl. At the time, Francis had no idea – he thought it was because she was French, but that wasn't the case. It was her natural beauty; all of his life it had been artificial, artificial looks, artificial girls. Jeanne punched the shit out of him because she wasn't like that. None of the girls Francis knew before would have; they would have graciously accepted his date offer. Jeanne didn't wear makeup, and Jeanne didn't care whether or not she had a boyfriend. She was naturally beautiful; she didn't require all of the products other women did; the makeup that would cover up one's soul. Jeanne smiled naturally, and she was beautiful in the core.

That, that was the reason why he was drawn to her. It all made sense now.

"So, Francis… I've been feeling kind of lonely lately, and I was wondering if you could help me out?" She smiled again, reaching her hand over to stroke his thigh lightly. The boy's muscles tensed at the action.

"Listen, Roxanne, you are a beautiful girl, but-" she squeezed his thigh tightly, causing him to nervously laugh. "But... I am not on ze market anymore," he smiled kindly, hoping she would understand.

OHMAHFISHSTICKS

Jeanne jogged past the Wal-Mart, but today she just wanted to get home. The Benny's ice cream shop was just ahead. She would turn the corner there, head down Main Street, and head home. Today, as much as she'd hate to admit it, Francis was on her mind more than usual.

When she was growing up, she'd never thought about guys. She'd always been strong in her religion; and she'd always thought of joining the military when she got older. It was her life goal, in a way. But then Francis came along… well, now she thought about spending her life with him too.

The girl couldn't help but be hesitant, though. She'd heard much about Francis that made her want to vomit. He was… man candy, as some would put it. But he seemed to really be cleaning up for her, and he was charming, no matter how Jeanne looked at it. She couldn't count how many roses she had from the Frenchman.

As she neared the corner by the colorful ice cream shop, she heard a familiar sound; Francis' laugh. Why was he here? Then she heard another sound – a girl; what was her name again? Jeanne walked slowly up to the side of the ice cream shop, slowly looking around the corner stealthily. Francis was sitting on the bench, his back to Jeanne, looking uncomfortable. Sitting uncomfortably close to him was… Roxanne. That was her name.

Jeanne hated her with a fiery passion. All she did in gym class was complain about a broken nail or bring in fake doctor's notes to get out of the exercise. She didn't really have any guts – if this was back then, Jeanne would have punched the living shit out of the red-head.

Jeanne leaned against the wall, around the corner from Francis and Roxanne, intent on listening to their conversation.

"Listen, Roxanne, you are a very beautiful girl, but-" Jeanne's eyes widened as he heard him say this. Here… here she thought Francis was actually changing. She'd trusted him, and now she could see she did the wrong thing.

"So you agree, and you want to share a bed with me?" Jeanne heard Francis laugh, but it sounded almost nervous.

"You are missing my point, Roxanne; what I meant was-" Francis tried to start, but the other girl cut the Frenchman off.

"Francis, you have agreed that I am beautiful, and you are known for being a great partner, what is holding you back?" She hissed. Jeanne quietly shifted her weight, still listening to the conversation.

"You are beautiful, Roxanne! But zat is not what I have been getting at. Zere is only one girl now that is truly beautiful to me now, and merci, but it is not you. I refuse to sleep with you," Francis said, a hint of strongness Jeanne had never heard in his voice. Her eyes widened as she heard him say this, but then she realized – Francis was talking about her. He was turning down an offer for her. A light smile graced the brown-haired girl's face.

"So you've fallen in love; big whoop! It's that one chick, what's here name, that doesn't wear makeup or anything, right? I can't believe you would choose such an ugly girl over me," she sneered. Oh, Jeanne would punch her for that if it wasn't illegal.

"Zat was not funny, Roxanne! She is more beautiful zan you; you will never compare! I refuse to sleep with someone as scandalous as you. Now take it back! You will not insult her again!" Francis growled at the other girl.

The next thing Jeanne heard was the sound of skin hitting skin harshly and the sound of footsteps storming away. Slowly and quietly, Jeanne came around the corner, seeing Roxanne walking away in the distance, and Francis sitting on the bench. His head was down and he was caressing his cheek – Jeanne could see it was turning red.

Oh, Jeanne thought. It clicked in her head; Roxanne must have slapped Francis. Speaking of which, the Frenchmen still hadn't noticed her. Quietly she sat down on the bench next to him on the side of his wounded cheek. Slowly she leaned over until her lips were next to his ear.

"I think I have made you run long enough, Francis," she murmured in French before grabbing his chin lightly and turning his face towards her, catching his lips in a kiss.

It took Francis a moment to realize what was happening, but as soon as he did, he kissed back with as much passion as he could. Jeanne pulled away after a moment, keeping their foreheads touching.

"My dear, how much of that did you hear?" Francis asked, staying in the French tongue. Jeanne smiled lightly.

"I think most of it, really. But that is not what matters right now," she murmured, reaching her lips over to kiss his recently slapped cheek. Francis chuckled lightly.

"So you know much I care about you," he whispered. Oh, how he loved speaking in French with her. He watched as Jeanne stood up, stretching her back and looking at Francis once more.

"I will see you tomorrow at school, Francis," she smiled once again before starting in her jog. Francis watched as she passed Roxanne, tripping her as she passed the other girl.

Francis chuckled and stood up, his cheek not throbbing as much. Today turned out to be a good day; and although he'd always thought he would initiate the first kiss, somehow it seemed so much more fitting with how it happened.

"Oh, Jeanne," he whispered, walking back to his house.

* * *

Yeah sorry most of that was just FrancexJeanne d'arc stuff. And if you were wondering, I know kids who have lost their virginity at the ages of 12 or 13, so saying that Francis lost his at 13 is not much of a stretch... since it is Francis.

SPAMANO IS COMING. I promise.

Guys, I'm trying to convince my mother to get a cat for me. A gray one named William because William is now my favorite character, and for god's sake: he's a fucking cat. So I don't understand. But I find him super cute in my mind. For all of you who are wondering exactly how I picture William, this is a picture of what I see him as:

ww w. 3dm d gallery / displayi mage- 1894 .ht ml (Remove spaces, guys. If you don't know.)

Daww, hes so adorable :D Alfred chose the right cat.

As always, thank you for reading and reviewing, and continue to do so please! ((I have to point out, please log in to reply if you have an account, especially if you are giving constructive critiscm or help of some sort. I've wanted to reply to several guests before and haven't been able to!)) :D You go, people in... Canada. Cool maple syrup.


	13. Chapter 13

Characters don't belong to me, brethren.

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Arthur pulled on his winter coat over his shirt, sipping up the black clothing before sitting on the couch and slipping on his boots. His snow pants were on already, and he felt ready for the snowball fight today. William sat on the carpet below him, his gray tail twitching as he watched his owner prepare for the battle.

Arthur quickly tied the second boot on, standing up and walking from his main room to his front door. William followed him as he grabbed his gloves and stepped up to the door. With a quick nod at the kitten Arthur left the house, slipping on his gloves as he walked in the direction of the park.

It was a quick, brisk walk to get to the park; all he had to do is walk down to the end of the block and take a left, pass some houses and the park was right there. Down in the open space he could see several kids building mounds of snow, so Arthur walked towards them, his boots crunching in the snow.

Arthur had never been one for snow; rain was fine, but snow made it so he couldn't garden and going on peaceful walks become harder. He'd never had a snowball fight, but if having one allowed him to throw things at Francis, it was worth it.

As he walked up he saw Alfred, Bell, Liz, and three other boys he did not know. Bell looked up and smiled at him as he walked by. Another boy looked up; he was sitting next to Bell. His blonde hair was spiked up and he looked rather muscular. He wore a tan trench coat with a blue and white striped scarf, and he was rather intimidating. Another one of the boys wore a green winter coat with snow pants; he had a cap the same shade of green on top of his chin length brown hair. Another had a dark blue coat on, and his brown hair was slicked back; he had a small mole underneath his chin and was talking with Liz.

It took Alfred only moments to see the Brit standing and examining the others. Standing up from the snow wall he was making, he ran over to Arthur and caught the boy in a bear hug.

"Dude! You totally made it!" he grinned and released Arthur. Alfred turned around and pointed to the three new guys.

"That's Toris," he pointed to the boy in the green coat. "That's Roddy, but he likes to be called Roderich," the American said as he pointed to the boy next to Elizaveta. "And that's Abel," he pointed to the boy who was next to Bell.

Arthur nodded to all of them, quickly memorizing the names. By the time he looked to his side, where the American was, Alfred had moved back to the snow mound he was building. There was about twenty of them around the area, each about three feet wide and two feet tall. He figured they were barricades for people to hide behind. Slowly he sat down next to the barricade Bell and Able were working on, helping them pat snow on the sides and top.

"Look, its Ivan! I think that's Yao with him!" Liz pointed down the park to where two figures were walking towards them. _That's right,_ Arthur thought. Alfred had said he was going to invite lots of people to come have the snowball fight. But before he could ask any more, Toris started freaking out.

"Alfred! You didn't tell me Ivan was coming!" he hissed, going to stand up. Alfred caught his hand and prevented the small boy from moving.

"Chill out dude! I'll make sure you're on the same team so he can't kill you on accident!" Alfred replied. The brown-haired boy still seemed to be freaking out, trying to run away as 'Ivan' came over. The two boys Liz had pointed out had arrived. Well, one man, and one… either that was a girly man or a manly girl, which, Arthur couldn't tell.

"Privet, comrades," the white-haired boy said, a creepy smile coming on his face. Then he noticed Toris and smiled at the shorter boy who looked like he was about to cry.

"Oh, Toris! I did not know you were coming! But Raivis and Eduard are coming as well! So now I'll have _all three of you!_" Arthur watched the creepy smile become creepier, and he could swear Toris peed his pants at that moment.

"Heheh, great! That's so great!" Toris replied nervously. All of a sudden a snowball hit Ivan, and Arthur felt scared for his safety as the Russian boy flinched. The Brit turned his head, and he could see Abel's hand outstretched, showing he'd thrown the snowball.

"Just because we're a grade older doesn't mean we get to scare these guys," he said. The Brit felt like this was some battle he'd read from one of his books; he could feel both of the two older men staring down like they would pull out wands and start shouting forbidden spells. But Ivan simply smiled and cocked his head to the side, his eyes closed and showing off what was an innocent looking face.

"Of course! Toris and I are just so close, though," he opened his violet eyes and stared at the brown-haired boy again. Abel grumbled something and went back to the structure. Three more people were approaching in the distance, but the Brit went back to the structure he was working on.

Ivan happily took a seat towards the left sides of the barricades, starting another base of a structure. The brown-haired girly man/ manly girl took a seat next to him. Arthur watched, and noticed that the unknown gender thing looked rather Chinese.

"What's your name?" Abel asked. It took Arthur a moment to notice the older boy was talking to him. He looked over at the older boy; his accent sounded Dutch, now that Arthur heard it; but it was very faint, so he'd probably spent much time in America.

"It's Arthur," he answered. Abel nodded his head and patted some more snow on with his brown gloves. Slowly he ran his hand over the top of the structure, smoothing it out and marking completion.

"Arthur, huh? You're like the size of my pinky, kid," he mumbled before standing up, stretching, and walking off to start another structure, Bell happily following him in a skip.

"Hey, you guys!" Arthur heard a happy, accented voice behind him. "I brought white flags for everybody so we don't have to fight!"

Arthur turned his head from where he was sitting to see three boys – two who looked very similar, with curls coming out of their hair, and another who had slicked back long hair. He seemed mildly annoyed with the situation, like he was forced to be here.

"Hey dudes!" Arthur grinned. Coming up from behind the newcomers were Francis, Jeanne, and Antonio, along with three other people whom Arthur didn't know; two boys with blonde hair, one being rather short, and a girl with long brown hair tied back in two ponytails.

"Feliciano, you can't retreat every time," the strict looking blonde said. The other one, with dark brown hair and a curl, started yelling at the blonde about… potatoes? Arthur couldn't tell between the fast speaking and the accent.

The group of people who were following Antonio came over to the group of snow mounds, splitting and mingling. Arthur noted that Francis and Jeanne were holding hands; and Antonio went over to Alfred and started nervously talking.

"Alfred, you didn't tell me Lovi was going to be here," he hissed, looking at the baseball player. Alfred shrugged and stopped patting snow on his structure, standing up so he was level with the Spaniard.

"Why does it matter, dude? He's just an annoying Italian," Alfred answered, but Antonio looked mortified at his friend's response.

"Just _some Italian?_ I could have worn better clothing or fixed my hair or gone and bought some Old Spice! He's gonna think I'm an idiot now!" the Spaniard growled, trying to get the message through to the blonde. Alfred just shrugged and walked off to the side of the mingling teenagers.

"Alright dudes! Listen up! We'll split into teams of 10 as soon as Mattie and Gil get here, ok?" he called out to the group, effectively silencing them.

"Actually, we're right here, bro!" Gilbert called out. He was sitting on top of Roderich, who was face-down in the snow struggling to get out from under the Prussian's crotch. Matthew stood next to him, rubbing his head with an apologetic look on his face. Liz was taking a picture of Gilbert sitting on the pianist with her phone.

"Alright, I'll lead one team, and commie over there can lead the other," Alfred pointed to Ivan, who just smiled another creepy smile.

"I dibs on Artie, though. You can dibs on Yao," Alfred said to Ivan, who nodded his head. Arthur walked to stand over by Alfred, watching the he/she/it walk to stand next to Ivan.

"Hmm… I'll take Raivis" Ivan grinned a sadistic grin while the shortest boy in the group – whom Arthur assumed was Raivis – walked next to Russia.

"Abel, you're up dude," Alfred grinned. Abel put his large hand on top of Bell's head.

"Bell comes with me, yeah?" he asked, his hair still sticking up perfectly. Alfred nodded his head and the duo walked over to Alfred.

"Oh! That means I get to pick two, da? Toris and Eduard," he said. The other two boys who seemed to fear the Russian-accented boy walked over to him. Alfred rubbed his chin with his snow glove, debating who to choose next.

"Ludwig, my bro," he grinned. The German went to walk over to the baseball player, but was stopped by the lighter-haired Italian boy.

"Wait! Wait! Ludwig! Don't leave me please~!" He shouted out, grabbing onto the German's leg and wrapping around it like a child. Ludwig pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out an exasperated sigh as if he was used to this.

"Chillax Feliciano! You can come too!" Alfred said, to which the Italian boy got off Ludwig's leg and happily skipped over to the rest of the group as if nothing had ever happened.

"My turn again? And I get to pick two," the Russian chuckled. "Jeanne and Lovino," he called, making the two walk over to his team.

"Elizaveta," Alfred called out. The girl stopped taking pictures of Gilbert sitting on Roderich, walking over to Alfred's group as she tucked her cellphone back into her coat pocket. Ivan started looking at the remaining people, staring them all down, until he was interrupted by Francis.

"Wait, wait! Ivan, mon ami, do not pit me against my lover!" he ran up to the boy, getting on his knees, his hands clasped together at the Russian's feet as he pleaded to be on his team.

Arthur watched the spectacle; Gilbert sitting on Roderich's face, Francis pleading almost like his life was on the line, and that strange Italian boy clinging to Ludwig like fish and chips cling together. Was this normal for a group of friends?

And Alfred called him weird, sheesh.

"Alright, Francis can come because he is so happy about it~" Ivan said, his Russian accent thick. Then Francis was followed by Antonio, who did exactly what Francis did – ran up to the Russian, got on his knees with his hands clasped together, and started begging to be on the team.

"Por favor, mi amigo! I don't want to be away from my Lovi!" he whined to the smiling Russian. Ivan chuckled again and nodded his head at the Spaniard as if he liked a person begging to him on their feet; although, as far as Arthur knew, he did enjoy it.

"Alright," Alfred said. "We'll go Michelle with the commie – sorry Michelle – and my bro, my bro's boyfriend, and the person my bro's boyfriend is sitting on are on my team," Alfred said. Arthur watched the girl with pigtails go Ivan's team, and Matthew coming over to their team. Gilbert farted on the pianist before standing up, allowing the boy to get up and breathe. He looked sincerely angry with the albino.

"If we were on different teams, Gilbert," he growled, but the albino laughed.

"What, you would surrender to my awesomeness?" He grinned. Roderich stared at him one more time before spinning around quickly and dramatically. Gilbert shoved his hands into his pockets before following, whistling like nothing happened.

"Alright – rules are that team with the last person standing wins. Anything goes, minus actually hurting someone" - Alfred eyed Ivan suspiciously – "and no switching teams. No putting rocks in the snowballs; snowballs must be made of snow. Kills must be made my snow. Those are the rules; no cheating. And yes, Ivan, before you ask, making your own rules is cheating. My team on the side with the baseball field in the distance, Ivan's team by the house side. Battle begins in thirty seconds. Ready, set, go!" he yelled, and the two teams scattered to their sides.

Arthur ran to a barrier, hiding behind it. Level to him he could see Gilbert grinning and muttering about how awesome he was, with a little… a bird? There was a little bird on his head chirping. What the hell?

Arthur followed Bell's lead – who was in a barrier further up than he was – by starting to make snowballs. He pushed the snow around the area into multiple balls, crunching them together to make it denser and smoothing it out.

"Five, four, three, two, one, go!" Alfred called out, and immediately the clingy Italian boy – Feliciano? – jumped out from the structure and ran into the small open space between the mass of barriers, a white flag in his hand.

"I surrender! World peace! I surrender in the name of Italy!" he shouted; Arthur watched as Jeanne came out from behind her structure and threw a snowball with perfect aim, hitting the Italian in the chest before disappearing again.

The Brit watched as Toris tried to move up to another barrier, but Gilbert saw the movement and released four snowballs at the boy, two of them making their mark. Toris went to stand off to the side with Feliciano, while Gilbert stood up, in plain view.

"Did you see how awesome I was, yeah! I was awesome!" he yelled. Francis threw a snowball at the albino, coming up in clear view, and Abel threw some at the Frenchmen. Michelle, Eduard, and Jeanne all immediately pulled the Frenchman down from their surrounding barriers, making the Dutch boy's snowballs miss their mark. Meanwhile, Francis' snowball hit the albino square in the jaw, and Arthur could hear Francis laughing behind his structure.

The Prussian left the field, grinning as if he'd done something awesome. Then there was silence. Arthur didn't dare make a move, scared of what the other team would possibly do. He'd have to wait until there was an opening. And then he saw it; although it was hard to see, as he was almost invisible – Matthew crawling across the open space in the middle, a snowball in his hand. Arthur watched as the boy crawled up to the first row of structures and threw the snowball. Despite the uncanny position, he was able to hit Raivis and send the boy out before slipping behind the front of the barrier Raivis was just behind.

Liz slipped into a barrier next to Arthur, with a snowball the size of his head in her hands. She smiled at the Brit.

"Listen, I'm only here because I want to shove this in Francis' face," she said, motioning to the huge snowball that was in her hands.

"Why?" Arthur asked. He couldn't imagine why the Hungarian would have a grudge on the boy – you know, minus his perverseness, Frenchness, and the ability to be annoying when he wanted.

"Oh, god told me to. So here I am!" she smiled like nothing was unusual. Arthur had a look of concern come across his face. Why… why would god ask her to shove a giant snowball in his face?

Probably because he was French.

"Ok, so what do you want me to do about it?" Arthur whispered back. The dirty blonde girl smiled.

"It's because of Michelle, Jeanne, and Eduard. Michelle and Francis are like brother and sister; Eduard doesn't want to lose, and although Jeanne won't admit it, she cares for him. Between the three he has a perfect defense. I'm not quite sure where Ivan, Yao, Antonio, and Lovino are, but they have about fifteen barriers so guessing would be futile. Anyways – I need you to throw snowballs all around the three's defenses so they can't assist Francis. Bell is helping, and Abel might join in as well; Kapeesh?" She said, and Arthur nodded.

Liz quickly maneuvered between their team's barriers until she was at the front one before nodding to Arthur and Bell, who started throwing snowballs at Francis's friends. Eduard peeked his head up to see who was throwing them, only to move his head back down as he saw Liz charging forward with her oversized snowball. Arthur watched, still throwing snowballs as fast as he could, as Liz threw the giant snowball down behind Francis' barrier, and the Brit could hear the Frenchman yelp. Four people – Michelle, Eduard, Jeanne, and another who Arthur didn't know – started throwing snowballs at the girl. Elizaveta dodged them all, managing to get one more snowball made and thrown at Eduard, before Michelle's connected with her shoulder.

Arthur pushed his head against the back of the barrier. Feliciano, Toris, Gilbert, Raivis, Liz, Francis, and Eduard were all out; that was already seven people. Enemy team… wasn't that now Ivan, Yao, Jeanne, Lovino, Michelle, and Antonio?

Ivan and Yao were out of sight; he didn't know where they were and they would probably kill him. Jeanne had crazy good aim, putting her out; Michelle was an option, and Antonio, and Lovino were all possibilities. Arthur made a quick dash to a barricade farther up; behind the barrier next to him was Ludwig, a perfectly round snowball in his hand.

The German put a finger over his mouth and pointed off to the side of the enemy barricades; Matthew was crawling army style to the back of the blockades. Arthur's eyes widened as he remembered what the Canadian said; _Nobody ever really does see me, it's fine._ He was using his natural invisibility powers in the game! Alfred had said most things go, and he never said anything about not using invisibility powers!

The Brit and the German watched as he crawled back to the row of barricades almost all the way in the back. There was only one more row behind the one the Canadian laid at, but the boy stood up and threw a snowball, a happy look on his face while someone shouted out in Chinese. Then, instantly, a row of snowballs from the back row all slammed directly into Matthew's face, causing the boy to fall backwards into the snow.

"Zat was definitely Ivan," Ludwig growled. He then turned his face to Arthur.

"I have a plan. But you must hit Lovino when he comes out, ok? If you do not think you have what it takes, I'll go find someone else," Ludwig whispered to Arthur.

"No, I can do it; I practiced a bit throughout the week," he whispered back. The German nodded his head.

"This is what you do. I am going to run into the middle field, shouting things about how potatoes are better than tomatoes. I know Lovino – he will jump up and start yelling back, and the chances of him throwing snowballs are high. You must hit him while he is out from his barricade. I won't make it out alive, most likely, but we all need to make sacrifices," he said

Ludwig handed him the perfectly round snowball before running out into the main field.

"Oh yes! Potatoes are so better than tomatoes! Those red things can't even compare to the godliness of potatoes, ja?" he shouted. True to his word, Lovino came out from behind his structure, shouting back in Italian as he threw snowballs at the German.

This was his chance. Arthur stood up just a little, into a high crouch, took in a breath, pulled back his arm, and threw the snowball forward in a fury. The snowball flew, in what seemed like slow motion, and Arthur watched as it flew towards the Italian… and hit him in the right shoulder. The Brit couldn't help but smile despite the fact that Ludwig was also out now.

The Brit felt an arm pull him down as a snowball flew towards his uncovered face, the white projectile missing him by inches. Roderich was crouched next to him, a serious look on his face.

"Listen, the numbers are at five to three; we're winning. At the same time, it's Jeanne, Ivan, and Michelle left. We've got Abel, and Alfred is in our barriers somewhere, but other than that we're just average; you, me, and Bell. Michelle has a great shot if you give her a chance, and so does Jeanne; Ivan is downright malicious. He'll be the hardest to take down. But you and me, we need to get one of them so the others have a chance," he whispered dramatically. Arthur nodded his head; despite the fact that this was just a snowball fight, it felt like a real war to him.

"We can both go up there; one of us behind the other; that way only one can take the bullets, so we can at least get one of them out. You go behind me; snowballs were never my thing, just pianos." Roderich raised his crouch up, ready to start running. Arthur made a shabby snowball before getting ready as well. Instantly the brown-haired boy ran out, a snowball in his own hands.

Michelle stood up and threw one quickly at Roderich, hitting him in the stomach. She did not have time, however, to save herself as Arthur threw a snowball deftly, hitting her on the chest. Arthur grinned yet again until he felt a hard, wet object hit him in the back of the head. Turning around, he saw Jeanne standing behind a different barricade than her original one. Biting his lip, Arthur exited the arena to go stand by the others, watching the rest of the match.

Now viewing from the side, Arthur could see more than just snowy walls; Ivan was working his way up, stopping at the third row to the front. Alfred was behind the fourth row on his side, Abel and Bell on the second. Jeanne moved up to the foremost barrier on her side.

In what seemed to be pure irony, Bell, Jeanne, and Abel all stood up at once; Jeanne hit Bell, and Abel hit the girl after before ducking down. It was after the two girls had exited the playing field that Ivan literally pulled up part of a structure, throwing it across the middle field, and crushing it upon Abel's head, erupting in curses from the boy. Abel ran a hand through his hair as he stood up and exited the field, staring at the Russian on his way out. Arthur saw his head turning red from where the snow had hit him; it looked like it was going to bruise.

Then it was down to Alfred and Ivan.

Ivan had ducked down behind the foremost structure, and so had Alfred. They sat there doing nothing. Now it occurred to the Brit; Alfred had been nowhere during the game until now.

"Is there a reason Alfred didn't show up until now?" Arthur asked the scowling Dutch boy. Surprisingly, his hair was still sculpted into perfect spikes after having the barrier land on him. Abel nodded his head.

"He's trying to be the hero," Abel murmured before walking off. Arthur rolled his eyes; that sounded so much like the American. He did make a rather cute hero, though, Arthur noted mentally with a small blush.

In what seemed like seconds, Alfred removed himself from behind the barrier, running towards Ivan with a snowball in his hand. Ivan heard the footsteps as they approached, and started throwing snowballs. They kept on missing, and Alfred kept on running, and running, until he ran straight through the structure literally; he extended his hand, pushing the snowball into Ivan's surprised face as they both fell backwards in a huge heap.

Everybody watched as Alfred lifted his fist into the air from his crumpled position in the snow; he stuck the closed fist as high as it would go into the air. Then, everybody heard his voice; stuttering from the fall, but still strong.

"That was… we won… we won, dudes…" he groaned.

* * *

So... if you were ever looking for a long chapter... yeah. I have a 120 point english assignment due tomorrow and I've only done one problem on it. O_o

My mom won't let me get a cat guys; we already have a stupid dog so I can't have one D: For those of you who couldn't view the pictures (I had some PM/comment) just go google a picture of a 'grey kitten with blue eyes'. any of the pictures there actually look about what I think him to look like.

I hope I made the snowball fight clear, guys. I made an episode reference to where Liz was hitting Francis with the snowball because god told her to. If you caught that, good job brethren. But, snowball fight; I hope you understood it all.

I feel for Toris. The whole Baltic Trio, actually, but, yeah.

I feel like a review whore, guys TT_TT but reviews are nice. Appreciated. Tell me if I didn't make the fight clear enough.  
Germans. If you are reading this, you guys are cool B| Good wurst, brethren.


	14. Chapter 14

Characters aren't mine. Have fun reading dudes.

* * *

Matthew and Gilbert were sitting in Alfred's room; Gilbert was finding much delight in using Al's Xbox while Matthew sat curled up beside him, playing with the fur on his favorite stuffed bear.

Alfred might get mad at the Canadian when he got home, but Matthew didn't really care. The blonde boy had a short attention span; he would forget about it soon enough.

Gilbert snickered as he killed more people on Halo 4 live, muttering about awesomeness while Gilbird chirped on his head. Matthew smiled and pulled the baby bird from his boyfriend's head, petting the golden feathers it had.

That was about the moment the Canadian heard his brother come through the door downstairs, laughing about something. He heard heavy footsteps as the American charged up the stairs, swinging his door open and seeing Gilbert and Matthew curled together on his bed. Arthur was on Alfred's back, his arms wrapped around the other's neck and his legs curled around the taller boy's waist.

"Hey dudes! Uh… why are you on my bed?" Alfred asked while Arthur examined the room from his back; it looked like what he'd imagined. Posters for famous baseball players were around the wall, along with some posters of old-fashioned sports cars and bands. Above the head of the bead, a giant American flag was hung up. Arthur snuggled into Alfred's back as best he could, enjoying the moment; it was his first time being at Alfred's house.

"Kesese; just wanted to play some Halo," Gilbert smirked as he sniped down a player of the opposing team.

"Yeah, can you move though? Or at least let Artie and I join in?" Alfred said, walking into his room. Turning, he closed the door with his foot before walking over to the bed on the opposite wall and setting Arthur down on it. Matthew pushed Gilbert closer to the edge of the bed; Alfred grabbed extra controllers, handing one to the Brit.

"Mattie, you wanna play?" Alfred asked; the Canadian sighed and reached out his hand, motioning for Alfred to hand him a controller. Alfred grabbed one for himself before moving to sit on his bed, next to Arthur as they played.

They played until the brothers' parents got home, and even after that, not even coming down for food; instead they opted to munch through two bags of chips and sodas. Eventually Matthew dragged his boyfriend back to his room, leaving Arthur and Alfred alone.

It was dark out while the two boys changed into their pajamas; well, Matthew got into a warm set of pajamas and Gilbert just slept in his underwear.

"Do you think they like each other?" Matthew asked suddenly as he laid down on the bed, the Prussian boy getting in next to him.

"Hm? Oh, Alfred and Arthur? Now that you mention it, I think they might," he said. Gilbird took a seat on a small blanket Gilbert had brought for him, which was now on the Canadian's dresser.

"I think Alfred doesn't realize it though," Matthew murmured, grabbing Gil's hand underneath the blanket. The two boys fell asleep soon after.

LEPAGEBREAKER

Alfred yawned as he woke up, sunlight streaming in from the window in his room. He could see Arthur's golden locks coming out from under his blanket, and he felt the warmth of the Brit pressed up against him. The two of them had rolled together in the night, despite the fact they fell asleep on different sides of the bed.

He smiled as he subconsciously ran his hands through Arthur's hair, not wanting to wake the boy up. Alfred had never been so close to someone before; even when Antonio came over, or Kiku, or even Francis, they never slept in the same bed together. Alfred just felt… differently about Arthur. Was that the right way to put it? Alfred still wasn't sure. He had a different friendship with Arthur than he did with his other friends; that was clear.

He didn't know if he should be letting the boy cuddle with him like that after the dream he'd had. It wasn't awkward, but having him close like this made it kind of hard to forget about the dream.

Alfred sighed and adjusted the blankets, intent on going back to sleep. All of this stuff was too much to think about; it was hurting his brain. But he didn't push the boy away from him, instead wrapping one arm securely around the smaller boy before closing his eyes and drifting into sleep.

…-…-…-…-…-…-…

Later that afternoon, Alfred and Matthew sat with their parents at the dinner table. Matthew was intent on telling his parents he was gay; it was now or never. Well, he'd just prefer if Alfred was there, since the boy made him feel much more comfortable; comfort was something he could use now.

But dinner continued on, and Matthew hadn't said a single thing. Alfred was concerned his brother had run out of the will to tell his parents. He was getting impatient waiting for his brother. They were having steak for dinner, and it tasted crappy waiting for his brother to come out to his parents.

Matthew chewed his stake slowly, thinking of ways to say it. Would it be better to give a whole speech or just go, 'hey guys, I'm gay'? He'd never done this before! Even Alfred had found out by mistake. He didn't know how to do this! Luckily, he didn't have to with Alfred.

"Jeez, this is ruining my stake. So I'm just gonna say it. Guys, Matthew's gay. Like, super gay; and he has a boyfriend," Alfred sighed and took another bite of his steak, not noticing Matthew's I-will-kill-you face. Alfred's father looked up from his plate, his blue eyes widening as he looked over at Matthew. Matthew's mother did the same, running a hand through her blonde hair.

"Alfred! That's not even cool!" Matthew yelled as their parents sat, still dumbfounded.

"What?! It's not like you were gonna say it!" Alfred retorted, rolling his eyes as if that was obvious.

"Well then," Matthew turned his head to his parents, intent on getting back at his brother. "Alfred's confused. Like, way confused; doesn't know what to do with all those pent-up feelings for Arthur, huh, Alfie?" he growled.

"What? I don't like Artie like that! Well, I mean… that's not the point! We're talking about you right now, Matthew!" he yelled.

"Boys, boys!" Alfred's father yelled, silencing the two teenagers. Both of them stopped fighting, looking at the two parents who were looking at each other. Obviously that was a lot for them to take in at once, assuming both of them were telling the truth.

"Matthew, is this true?" his mother asked, violet eyes staring at her son's own. Matthew bit his lip and nodded his head, eyes looking down at his stake.

"So… you have a boyfriend as well?" their father asked. Matthew nodded his head while their father sighed, looking back at his wife for assistance. It was silent for a moment while the parents contemplated what had been said, Alfred happily chewed on his stake, and Matthew sat in panic. Finally his mother broke the silence.

"Well, it's not wrong to be gay. It's… it's new, and we might have to get used to the idea of you having a boyfriend, but we will be supportive for sure," she said, and Matthew let out his breath, his panic dying down. Their father nodded in agreement.

"So, what's this about you, Alfred?" his father asked. Damn, now the steak tasted bad again.

"Nothing; I don't think I'm gay," Alfred muttered, taking a sip of his milk.

"Like I said," Matthew interrupted, "he's confused. He doesn't realize it yet but I know already."

"Dude don't talk like you know me!" Alfred retorted.

"…But I do know you, Alfred. We're brothers," Matthew explained. Alfred rolled his eyes, pretending like he had the better point in the subject.

"Like I said, he's confused. Don't bug him about it," Matthew continued, Alfred snorting at his brother's speech. Their parents went back to eating their stake, a weird air filling the room as there was silence for the rest of dinner.

* * *

Aww... Alfred's in denial :D Is that a good or bad thing? Urgh, sorry for putting a lot of space between this update and the last update. Christmas, and I got sick, and... yeah. Busy life. But now I'm on christmas break, which is good cause that gives me all the time I want to sit on the computer.

Remember that twist? ITS COMING.

Alright... to all you Americans (and there are lots of you) we are cool. Epic fourth of July, and hamburgers, and yeah. WE ARE COOL, BRETHREN.

Reviews are lovely :D and thank you to all who review. Like, you really make me happy.

hasta la pasta, brethren~!


	15. Chapter 15

Alfred sat with Francis on his bed at his house; they were in his room right now, finishing a group project they had in science class together.

Francis handed him a paper that was covered in his fancy curvy writing. Damn, he was going to have a hard time reading that. The Frenchman stood up, off of Alfred's bed while the baseball player looked at his friend.

"Where are you going?" Alfred asked the boy. Francis sighed as he messed with the string that had pulled back his longer hair.

"I have a date, mon ami," he said. "I don't want to miss out on it, either." Alfred smiled as his friend said this; he was lucky, really. Jeanne must like him to put up with him.

"You're pretty lucky, Francis, you know," Alfred said as the other boy tied the laces on his shoes.

"What do you mean, mon ami?" Francis glanced at his friend before looking back at his shoelaces.

"You know, to have a girl that likes you so much," Alfred said. Francis chuckled as he put his hands on the other set of shoelaces, tying them quickly.

"You have a spot in someone's heart, too, you know," Francis said as he stood up. Alfred's eyes raised up, his curiosity sparked at the Frenchman's words. Somebody liked him? It wasn't Liz, she was dating Roderich now, and Bell said she liked some other boy… who was it then?

"Wait, what's her name, Francis?" Alfred asked as his friend went to leave his room. The other boy opened the door to his bedroom, but did not step out; Alfred could hear a small chuckle coming from the Frenchman as he went to leave.

"Why, mon ami, it is not a she, but a he," he said, walking out and closing the door behind him. Alfred sat on his bed in a daze, listening to the footsteps of Francis as he went down a flight of stairs and out the house's front door.

Alfred sat there, dumbfounded as he tried to wrap his head around what the Frenchman had said. A _he_ liked him… as in, a guy? That… that was new; but who liked him?

"Wait, I'm not even gay!" Alfred exclaimed out loud. Well, he didn't think he was. Maybe that one where you like both guys and girls… what was that called? Yeah, bisexual! Let's face it; hot girls were always going to get to Alfred.

"I don't even know anybody that's gay…" Alfred murmured, thinking about it. There was Roderich, Gilbert – who was gay, just he likes Matthew – god forbid that Matthew likes him, since they are brothers… Antonio! Antonio was gay!

…Did that mean Antonio was gay for him? Alfred shuddered at the thought. Antonio was the only gay person he knew, and he'd obviously come out to him so he can see if I was chill with the whole gay thing! That would also explain why he likes to work out with me shirtless!

Alfred winced at the thought. He'd overheard Antonio's conversation with bell at the snowball fight, just after they were done with the fighting and were walking back to their cars.

_"No, amigo, I like somebody right now!" _Antonio had said.

_"Aww, who is it? Is he here with us?"_ Bell had prodded Antonio multiple times, trying to get the Spaniard to tell her who his crush was.

_"Alright, fine! He's here with us. But that's all I'm telling you!"_ Alfred's eyes widened in fear; no, Antonio didn't like _him, _did he? Obviously that conversation gave it away! They'd been friends for so long, and lately Antonio has been, like liking him. Which was not cool; Alfred was not completely ok with that.

"What do I tell him? Will he still be friends with me after?" Alfred growled in frustration, throwing his science textbook on the ground. He didn't want to have Antonio as a boyfriend! They were just friends! Alfred hadn't even considered having anybody as his girlfriend, let alone his boyfriend. The only person he would consider going out with was maybe Arthur!

Wait, when did he start wanting to go out with Arthur?! Alfred buried his head in the pillow. All of this wasn't making sense! Antonio was crushing on him, and he was now apparently crushing on Arthur, who seemed to be a perfectly straight boy and oh god he still had to take him to the library soon! What if they ran into Antonio and it turned into this big 'love me back, Alfred!' type of thing?!

Well, technically speaking, Antonio had been pretty chill when he'd been turned down before. Still, that wasn't the point; apparently Antonio was gay for him. Some way or another, he would have to figure it out how to say no to his friend.

…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…

Alfred mulled behind Arthur as they picked their way through the books; it was Friday, and Alfred had picked up Arthur in his truck to take him to the library, the last thing on the list. The Briton happily bounced through the fantasy section, smiling happily like a child who'd gotten candy.

Alfred rubbed his head; he'd been in his school library every now and then, but he'd never gone to the public library. Plus his thoughts were crowded with how to turn Antonio down. He put on a brave smile, though, as he followed Arthur through the library.

"Aren't you getting anything, Alfred?" Arthur whispered. Alfred shook his head no.

"I never really liked reading. All the books I've read are always kinda lame," he replied, looking at all the different books on the shelves; each one had different colors, and different sizes, making it look unique in a way.

"They have books about baseball. Have you ever read something by Mike Lupica?" The Brit asked as he pulled a small book off the shelf.

"Who's Mike Lupica?" Alfred asked. Arthur sighed dramatically, sliding the book back where he'd gotten it from and grabbed the taller boy's hand, pulling him along to another shelve. He jerked the other boy into a section and pointed at a set of books.

"Try one, at least one," he said. Neither of them moved to release their clasped hands as Alfred squinted at the books. His eyes widened as he pulled out one book that had the word 'Hero' written across the front in all capital, golden letters.

"What's this one about?" Alfred asked. Arthur glanced at the cover before beginning to recite what he knew about the book.

"It's about a kid that starts experiencing changes that give him super powers soon after his father dies. He finds out that his dad was actually a superhero and was a confidante to the President, and now he has to become a superhero in his dad's place," Arthur answered. Alfred's eyes grew wide as he heard about it.

"Dude, that's so awesome! I'd feel so cool if I woke up one morning and could like fly or run really fast or another super power!" Alfred whispered loudly, gripping Arthur's hand tighter. The Englishman just smiled at his friend.

"I'm assuming you don't have a library card, but I'll get it for you," Arthur murmured, his free hand clasping around the book and pulling it from the American's grasp. Cerulean eyes looked over at him as he did, and emerald eyes looked back as the two locked together. They stared at each other, not wanting to move for some reason; so they stood together, eyes and hands locked, in the almost empty isle, feeling weightless.

_Now would be the perfect time to tell him_, Arthur thought; their hands were clasped together and oh were his eyes beautiful. Arthur set the book down on the shelf, about to run his hand across Alfred's chest as an older, larger lady bumbled past them, pushing them both into the shelves as she walked by. They released their hands quickly, both of them blushing horribly as the Brit grabbed the book, quickly pulling a random one for himself, and started walking in the opposite direction of the lady. Alfred followed; still unsure of what that feeling was that had come over him just moments ago.

In just moments they had checked out their books and were headed home, a small and awkward silence filling the air, though both of them were positively ecstatic about what had just happened.

…-…-…-…-…

Alfred collapsed on his bed, the new book in his hand. All of this was becoming too much for him. He had no idea what to do about Antonio, or Arthur, or how to tell his parents. Telling his parents about how Matthew was gay is a whole different story compared to telling them you're gay.

_If I even am gay_, Alfred thought, rolling onto his back so he was staring at his ceiling. Tony was his biggest problem; the Spaniard was gay, he told Alfred himself. According to the conversation he'd overheard as well, Antonio liked him as well.

I mean, Alfred's pretty good looking, so the American couldn't blame his friend. Quickly Alfred pulled out his phone, entering in Antonio's number and placing the device next to his ear. He heard the buzz, waiting, waiting and waiting for Antonio to answer so he could tell the Spaniard he didn't like him in return.

"Bueno?" Antonio answered like he always did. Alfred let out a breath he didn't notice he was holding. He ran his other hand through his hair wondering how to say it.

"Hey dude… what's up?" Alfred asked the Spaniard, beating around the bush.

"Not much. Why, do you need something? Why'd you call?" Antonio's voice sounded distracted.

"Oh, uh… yeah. I was wondering, if, well… you know how we're like, friends and stuff? We're like, just friends?" Alfred asked, his voice shaky.

"Yeah," Antonio warily answered, unsure of where this conversation was going. Then again, Alfred had called him for strange reasons in the past.

"So…" Alfred took a breath of fresh air. "I was wondering if maybe… you… you'd like to go to the gym with me this Saturday!" he smiled, relieved he had found a way out of it.

… Crap. He still hadn't turned Antonio down.

"Yeah! That'd be great! What time? Maybe like, eleven in the morning, that way not many people are there." Alfred slapped his forehead. He didn't want to go to the gym; he should have thought this whole phone call thing out.

"Hahaha… that would be great, I'll see you then!"

"Si! I'll be looking forward to it! I'll pick you up in my dad's car at 10:45, okay?" Antonio said.

"Yeah, that will be great!" Alfred tried to sound excited.

"Alright, I've got to go amigo. Talk to you later!" Antonio hung up without waiting for a reply.

Alfred groaned out loud. He couldn't turn Antonio down on the phone; he wouldn't be able to in person either.

* * *

*slams head on a table* guys, you were all looking forward to my twist and my twist is actually really lame, I just had to keep reminding myself about the twist so I wouldn't forget about the twist. I hope my twist is ok -n- according to my english homework a twist is: a change in the story that was not expected. Well, i don't think we expected Alfred to think Antonio likes him... murrrr I feel as if I fail guys. Just for the record, I'm always scared of your guy's opinions because I don't ever want to let you down... I'm sorry if I failed you D:

Apparently there is a place called Isle of Man in between Ireland and Great Britain. I don't know much about it, but bretheren of that location, you guys are awesome B|


	16. Chapter 16

Alfred bit his lip, trying to retain his composure as Antonio walked back from the bathroom. They were at the gym today; normally they would have gone to play sports on a Saturday, but the snow made it so they would have to work indoors.

"My turn to spot," Antonio grinned, motioning for Alfred to lay on the bench press; they could both lift 70 on a good day without maxing out. Antonio lightly slapped Alfred's shoulder, with the intent of it being a light-hearted slap; unfortunately, the American laughed nervously and quickly moved to the bench, getting away from Antonio's hand as he lied down on the bench in a perfect stance.

The Spaniard moved to stand behind him, getting ready to help Alfred remove the bar, but the blonde quickly removed the weights, quickly pushing them up and down in an attempt to move things along faster.

"Alfred, if you do it like that, you won't get a proper workout," Antonio warned, but Alfred had already lifted the bar six times out of ten.

"No dude, I'm totally fine. You know, friend. Cause friends, yeah, we're just friends!" Alfred said between lifts, wasting his air. Antonio looked at his friend weirdly.

"Is there something bugging you?" The brunette asked, but Alfred finished lifting his set of ten and set the weights up on the bar, quickly moving out from underneath the weights.

"No! Me, being bugged? No, I'm totally fine, really!" The American smiled extremely wide; Antonio gave him a concerned look, but ignored it and sat down on the bench press. Alfred stood behind him, grabbing a rag and wiping off the sweat quickly to prevent the bar from slipping. Then he grabbed the bar, ready to help Antonio lower.

The Spaniard grabbed at the bar, starting to pull it off of the rungs. But his hand was slightly laced over Alfred's – that was nothing new, it was bound to happen while working out with another person. But the American yelped and let go of that side of bar, and Antonio quickly unbalanced as one half of the bar slammed against the floor with a loud clang, making the other gymnasts look in their direction.

Antonio's eyes were wide as he looked at the bar – just inches from crashing against his face; it would have if he hadn't held up the other side of the bar; seventy pounds - that could have seriously injured him.

Alfred quickly recovered from his panic and helped Antonio lift the bar back up into the safety rungs. The Spaniard was shaking slightly, still spooked from the idea that the weight bar could have crushed him. The other gymnasts went back to what they were doing as Antonio quickly slid off the bench press, mock brushing off his shirt as he did so.

"Look amigo; let's skip the workout today if you're stressed. I'm not in the mood to get seriously injured," Antonio grabbed the weights off the bar, putting them back into the pile over in the corner. He quickly snatched his bag, motioning for Alfred to follow.

The American followed, not saying anything as he picked up his own bag. The two teenagers briskly walked out the door, to the Spaniard's car. Alfred groaned a little; that was stupid of him. Of course their hands would brush together during workout; he didn't have to freak out. He could have seriously injured the other boy.

The brunette hopped into the driver's seat and Alfred into the passenger's seat. In a set of quick movements the Spaniard was pulling out of the parking lot, but was not heading towards their houses; instead, he drove off into the other direction.

"Tony, what are you doing?" Alfred asked, his voice still slightly shaking. The green-eyed boy rolled down his window and stuck one of his hands out the window, the other still grasped onto the steering wheel.

"You've never messed up on spotting before. You're acting loco. Tell me what's up," Antonio insisted, but Alfred refused to speak.

"We're not going home until you do, so you better hurry. Gas costs a lot." Alfred bit his lip; surely he couldn't tell Antonio that he knew the Spaniard liked him? Could he? They drove in silence, passing houses that were lit up with Christmas lights, their roofs covered in white snow.

"I'll tell Ivan you're afraid of ghosts," Antonio warned. Instantly the American looked up, eyes wide with fear at the idea of his Russian rival knowing of his worst fear.

"OkwellthetruthisIdon'treallylikeyoubackandsocanwe stillbefriendscauseyou'reareallycooldudeandallbutId on'tlikeyoulike-"

"Amigo! Amigo, calm down!" The Spaniard interrupted him, and Alfred fell silent. "Try one more time, but slower. It doesn't count if I don't know what you're saying!"

Alfred grumbled and nervously ran his hand through his hair before starting to speak again.

"Ok… so, like, you're my coolest friend ever, you know? But the truth is, I don't really like you the way I like me…" he smiled at the end, trying to relieve tensions.

"Alfred, I like you as a friend… wait, amigo, did you think I loved you!?" Antonio asked, and Alfred looked at him in confusion.

"Wait, I thought you liked me. Like, big time!" he answered. Antonio rolled his eyes as he turned a corner on the road.

"Alfred, I've seen you come up with stupid things before; this tops them all by a long shot. What made you think I like you?" he questioned Alfred, confused by where the American had gotten the idea.

"Well, see, it started with when you told me you were gay, and then when we were having that snowball fight I overheard you talking to Bell about how you liked a guy that was there with us. So, when I started thinking about it I thought you had ended up growing a crush on me… and I just realized I totally blew this whole thing out of proportion…" Alfred grumbled towards the end, making Antonio grin.

"Yes you did. I don't like you; we're just amigos; that's why I call you an amigo," he grinned, turning onto a road that would take them back to their neighborhood.

"Wait… if you don't like me, then who do you like?" Alfred asked, his curiosity aroused; Antonio immediately started blushing, suddenly becoming very focused on his driving duties.

"Antonio~" Alfred said in a sing-song voice. Antonio sighed, knowing Alfred would get his way one way or another.

"If you must know, I like Lovino. I actually asked him out yesterday and he said yes," the Spaniard smiled at the thought of his boyfriend. The blonde grinned enthusiastically for his friend.

"Dude that's awesome! You're so lucky!" Alfred laughed a little and patted the brunette on the shoulder. "I'm surprised Lovino actually said yes with how angry he is all the time!" Antonio grinned a bit, feeling a bit more relaxed.

"You know, you could easily have a girlfriend, or a boyfriend, Al," Antonio said suddenly. Alfred rolled his eyes.

"I don't like anybody right now," Alfred snorted, though he blushed just a bit and looked out the window. The Spaniard raised an eyebrow, sparing a glance at his friend before turning his head back on the road.

"Matthew would say differently," the brunette challenged. Alfred bit his lip as he remembered the scene at dinner with Matthew claiming he had a crush on Arthur; the American still wasn't convinced.

"Yeah, well Matthew's full of crap because I don't like Arthur like that at all," he retorted, folding his arms as if that was the end of story.

"Oh? So you like Arthur, huh? I guess I should've noticed before. Bell pointed out that you seemed rather close…" Antonio smiled and spun the driving wheel.

"No! I don't like Arthur! Why does everybody keep saying that!" the blonde looked out the window, watching the snowy roads pass by as he tried to ignore what the Spaniard was saying.

"Maybe they keep saying it because, every time you do, you blush and look away like this. Alfred, this is no time to lie to yourself… do you like Arthur?" Antonio kept on pushing his friend, trying to get him to realize his own feelings. He could see the blush on Alfred's face spreading in the reflection of the passenger window.

"No! Gosh… we're just friends, you know! N-nothing unusual; he doesn't even like me back." Too late, Alfred realized his mistake as the Spaniard started laughing out.

"He doesn't like you _back_? Is that what you said? It seems you do like him!" Antonio laughed again, finally pulling into their neighborhood.

"Fine! Alright, I admit it! I like Arthur, ok? It's not like he likes me back anyways," he grumbled. "He probably doesn't even roll that way." Antonio pulled the car into Alfred's driveway, and the American looked eager to get out as he opened the door. But with one foot out of the car, and one foot in, Antonio stopped him.

"Amigo! Listen; I know you're not very good at thinking things through. But you might as well tell him anyways!" Alfred snorted.

"no way, dude. I don't want to get turned down," he stepped out of the car, slamming the door shut and walking to his front door. Antonio quickly rolled down the window and stuck his head out.

"Alfred! You didn't let me finish!" Alfred stopped walking, but refused to turn around and look at his friend.

"Just ask yourself this: would you rather get turned down, or in 10 years be wondering, 'what if I had asked him out?' Just think about it, amigo!" And with that, he stuck his head back into the car and drove off, down the street to his house.

* * *

Awws, Alfred finally admitted to himself that he likes Arthur :D And there's your Spamano, too.

This story should be coming to an end soon, guys. 1-3 chapters left... unless you want me to continue into the Spring, which is baseball season. I've always thought that, sometimes, the sequel in a movie ruins the overall story... That's why, I will only continue afterwards if you really want me to. Of course, should that happen, I'll add some twists into it so it won't be just a bunch of random fluff. So please tell me if you want me to continue this into the future, after their relationship is established.

As always, reviews are nice. Constructive criticism, (if you feel the need to) flames, anything, really. Just 'cool story bro', if all else fails.

To all of you brethren in Austria, cool pianos B| Actually, I got some Austrian cheese for Christmas, and it was the best cheese I've ever had. So, cool cheese, as well.


	17. Chapter 17

Characters do not belong to me.

* * *

Alfred sat on his bed, frustrated; that was uncommon for him. Normally, if something was bothering him, he would try to fix the problem. This, however, was new. He'd never asked someone out, despite the fact he was 16. Sure, he'd had others ask him out, and he'd politely decline them, but the American never had it the other way around.

Antonio's words still rang in his mind: _Just ask yourself this: would you rather get turned down, or in 10 years be wondering, 'what if I had asked him out?' Just think about it, amigo! _In ten years the American wanted to be playing major league baseball for the Yankees, not thinking about how he could have kissed Arthur. That would be a lame thought to have while he was up to bat.

He could go off of what he'd seen in movies, but it wasn't raining right now, and Arthur wouldn't be super happy if he dragged him into the middle of the road during a rainstorm just to kiss him, especially if the Brit didn't like him back. There wasn't any evil villains trying to kidnap him either, but that would be cool. Then he could save him and be the hero! Surely Arthur would like him then. Maybe Matthew would dress up as a killer for him.

This whole thing was harder because Arthur was a boy; he didn't even know if the Brit was into guys, let alone him. How did a dude ask out another dude? How did Mattie ask Gilbert out? Or did Gilbert ask Matt out? How did Antonio ask Lovino out? Was there some special way to tell if the other person was gay? He'd ask Mattie. Mattie would know; after all, he was dating that Prussian.

He ran out of his room into Matthew's; luckily, the Canadian was neither making out with Gilbert, nor changing. Instead, he was sitting on his bed, subconsciously petting one of his prized stuffed bears while looking up at the Canadian flag hung above him.

"Dude, I've got something to ask you!" Alfred said as shut the door behind him. Matthew looked up from the bear he was petting. His brother's eyes were wide like something big was about to happen.

"Yes?" Matthew sighed, putting the stuffed polar bear down beside him. Alfred didn't move, just leaned against the wall next to the door, tapping his fingers against the wall impatiently.

"How did you ask Gilbert out? Or, like, Gilbert ask you out?" he questioned. Matthew smiled just a bit at the memory.

"He came up to me and kissed me." He replied, going back to his stuffed bear.

"Really? That's it?" Alfred asked. The Canadian nodded his head.

"Yes. Are you going to tell Arthur you like him?" he grinned as Alfred blushed, opened the door and ran out, shouting behind him.

"Thanks Matt!" The Canadian heard footsteps running down the stairs; then it occurred to him what advice he'd just given to his brother.

"Wait! WAIT! If you ask Arthur out like that it might not work! It only worked because I liked Gilbert back and…" Matthew sighed as he stopped yelling. "And you're not listening anymore, are you?"

It took a moment for the American to run out of the door and into his truck, pulling out of his driveway and speeding to Arthur's house. All he had to do was kiss him; maybe it would start raining to make it more romantic. That would work, right? It's not like he could tell the Brit at school; he didn't go to school with Alfred.

In a blur Alfred had pulled up to Arthur's house and turned off his truck. Not pausing to let himself chicken out, he ran up to the door, knocking on the wood as hard as he could. The American could hear William meowing on the inside. Then the door started to open, and Alfred looked down, closing his eyes tightly as he heard the wood creak.

"Listen, Artie, the thing is, I know we're friends and all… but… I was thinking about your list and how you still have to kiss somebody and I was thinking maybe you would want to kiss me? Because I really want to kiss you and stuff, so… yeah…" Alfred bit his lip and looked up into the eyes of… Arthur's mother. She was nonchalantly leaning against the doorway, and her eyebrow cocking up in a questioning look and she had a small smirk on her face. Alfred's face flushed a color of embarrassment as he realized he'd just confessed to the wrong person.

"I think the person you're looking for is in his bedroom," she said, moving out of the doorway and pointing back into the house. "And Alfred, next time, look at the person you're confessing to."

The American nodded his head, blush raging on his face still as he raced back into the house to Arthur's bedroom door, the cat following him. He heard the sound of Arthur's mother closing the front door as he knocked on Arthur's door, finally having some decency to actually knock.

"Come in," the Brit's voice came, muffled by the wood in between the two. Alfred slowly turned the brass-colored handle, exhaling deeply like he did before going up to bat.

It was now or never.

* * *

CLIFFHANGER.

Guys, I'm so sorry for the ridiculously long update. But I have a good explanation my parents got rid of my computer for like a week, and I was really sore about it. But then, wala, a new freaking one showed up a couple of days ago! I'm super excited because the one I had was from 1997, which (considering how fast computers are evolving right now) is really outdated. Then I spent some time setting all the minesweeper scores and 3D pinball scores before writing this. But now I am here! I should write the next one soon so you don't have to hang on the edge; assuming my cliff hanger is any good and makes you fangirl waiting for the next. Sorry for the mildly short chapter also.

As always, thank you to all who review. I appreciate it more than you know, and please continue to review. Shout out to Estonians -_- Cool song festival, brethren B|


	18. Chapter 18

Characters do not belong to me.

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Alfred shut the door behind him, looking over at the Brit. Arthur was sitting cross-legged on his bed with a huge book in his hands. The American would never understand how the boy actually liked to read.

"Hey dude," Alfred said, sitting on the foot of Arthur's bed; come to think of it, he'd only been in Arthur's room briefly before. The boy had two large bookshelves, both piled with large hardback books. The only ones Alfred could recognize were the Harry Potter books. He had a desk with papers stacked neatly on it, filled with cursive handwriting. Then there was the wooden dresser, his bed, and the miniature table next to his bed.

"I didn't know we were spending time together today," Arthur grumbled. The American bit his lip; his plan was to just run up and kiss him, but now that he was face-to-face with the other boy, that seemed impossible. Plus the Brit seemed mad he'd interrupted his reading.

"You can just say hang out, you know," Alfred said, kicking his shoes off onto the carpet. The Brit pressed a bookmark into the novel before shutting it and putting it on his bedside desk.

"Do you want me to leave?" The American asked, hoping for the Brit to say no.

"Certainly not; you're already over here," Alfred let out a breath he didn't know he was holding, pulling his legs up onto the bed and sitting cross-legged. William meowed at the door, and the American realized he hadn't let the cat into the room. Then again… wouldn't a cat be a bad thing to have around right now?

"So, uh… Artie…" Alfred started. The Brit was right there! He could just kiss him! Arthur was looking at him; his back rested against the pillows leaned on the bed frame. Alfred scooted closer, using his hands to push him across the bed until he was next to the boy.

Alfred was shaking, more than he'd ever been, even when batting. Without pausing, he pressed his lips to Arthur's unsure of how the Brit would react. Just as quickly as he'd kissed Arthur, he pulled away, feeling weightless. The shorter boy's face was red, but he wouldn't look at Alfred.

"Why did you do that?" he whispered, his eyebrows knitting together and his fists clenching. Alfred bit his lip. This was probably the part where he was supposed to explain.

"Well, yeah… the thing is, I kinda-"

"Wait, I get it," Arthur interrupted, lowering his head even further. "Francis told you, right? So you're here to mock me, right? To make fun of me," he murmured.

If Alfred wasn't confused before, he surely was now. Francis told him what? He'd done something wrong, surely; the Brit's eyes were watering. That wasn't right. He should have waited for it to rain, after all.

"Wait, what? Francis told me what?" Alfred gently pushed Arthur's head up to see if the boy was actually crying only to get his hand slapped away. Something happened, Alfred was sure of it; even if he wasn't great at sensing the mood.

"Don't touch me!" Arthur hissed, jumping off the bed and running for the door, but Alfred ran after him, pushing against the door so the boy couldn't leave.

"Wait, sorry! I've never done this before; what did I mess up on?" Alfred asked. Arthur tugged at the door, but there was no point; Alfred was stronger than him.

"No! Francis told you I liked you, and now you're here to mock me, right?" he growled, starting to push Alfred away from the door so he could run off. Alfred refused to move.

"No! Francis didn't say- wait, you like me?" Alfred asked, his hopes soaring high. Arthur gave up on escaping and ran back to his bed, pulling the covers up from the neat bed and diving underneath the blanket, out of view. Alfred pinched his nose; the boy thought something else was happening for sure. Not even he could mess up a confession this badly.

Alfred walked over to the bed, looking at the bulge where Arthur hid. Carefully he got onto the bed, lifting the blanket and putting his head underneath the blanket. A bare foot pushed against his face, but the American pushed it away, climbing under the blanket to the curled up Brit.

"Go away," he sobbed, not wanting Alfred to be around him. The taller boy laid down next to the Brit, rolling the boy on his side; he still couldn't see Arthur's face, because the other boy had pulled his knees up and covered himself behind his legs and arms.

"No way dude; 'cause no matter how many times you shove a foot in my face, or bite my nose," Alfred ran a hand through Arthur's hair. "Or how many times you yell at me for killing your cat, or get scared of movies, or call me an idiot," Alfred wrapped his arm around the boy as best he could with the blanket over them.

"I'm always gonna love you," he murmured.

He'd never felt so happy than when he'd said it, feeling weightless; suddenly everything seemed so easy. He pressed his lips against the boy's arm, trying to coax him to uncurl.

"Francis didn't tell me anything. I'm not here to mock you," he said. "Can you at least look at me, Art? It's hard for me to confess how much I love you when you won't even look at me."

Arthur pulled his forearms up just a bit, and the American could see his emerald eyes. The taller pushed the blanket onto the floor, flooding the two with light. He pulled the boy up, but he still curled his limbs together. Alfred scooted close and wrapped his legs around Arthur's own, gently grabbing the boy's wrists.

"I know I'm really bad at this, but help me out a bit," Alfred murmured, pulling the wrists away from Arthur's face, the Brit letting him. Placing the Brit's wrists on his own thighs, Alfred used his hands to tilt Arthur's chin up and press his lips against the boy's once again. He did so as carefully as he could, wiping the tears from Arthur's cheeks and eyelids.

Arthur broke down finally, pulling his knees apart and wrapping them around Alfred's waist as his hand's clutched onto Alfred's shirt, kissing back finally. The taller smiled as he pulled away from the boy's velvety lips, sapphire eyes staring into emerald ones.

"I-I thought that Francis told you I liked you, and you were just making fun of me," he whispered. Alfred shook his head no.

"Do you really think I'd do something like that?" Alfred grinned, and the boy blushed.

"No," Arthur grumbled. Alfred laughed before sliding off the bed and slipping his shoes on. He handed Arthur's to him before crouching down, his hands on his knees.

"C'mon dude, piggyback ride," Alfred said, wagging his hips, looking at the Brit and waiting for him to get on.

"What?" Arthur asked. Alfred rolled his eyes as if something was totally obvious.

"Put your shoes on and get on my back, dude. I'm taking you to get ice cream! A hero can't let his boyfriend be sad," he smiled as Arthur hesitantly slipped his shoes on and climbed onto his back, wrapping his legs and arms around Alfred's body. Alfred stood up, opening the bedroom door and running out.

"S-slow down you wanker! You're going to drop me!" Arthur yelped as the American bounded down the hallway and out the door, straight to his truck. He opened the door and turned around so Arthur could fall into the seat. The Brit let go carefully but didn't let Alfred close the door.

"Wait, Alfred," he grabbed the American's arm before letting the boy close the door. Alfred stopped and looked at the boy. Arthur bit his lip before pulling together the guts to say it.

"I love you too," he murmured before averting his eyes. Alfred grinned and pecked the boy's lips.

"I know," he murmured and shut the door, sprinting to the other side and climbing into the driver's seat.

Off to ice cream it was.

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*faints* Le done! I'm most likely going to add a epilogue and then that will be it for this story guys! Thank you to all who have read this story; you have no idea how much I appreciate it.

If you haven't reviewed before, now would be the time to tell me if you like this story or not. On top of that, I feel as if I've gotten tons better at writing from this. If you could, in your comment, tell me if you think I've got the skills to write another multi-chapter fanfiction? Also any comments on how I could improve would be appreciated. Tell me what you thought of the story, things I could have done to make the story, etc. I appreciate every comment left, even the extremely harsh criticism type of comments.

Shout out to the world B| Together, we are awesome B|


	19. Epilouge

_Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep!_

Alfred cracked one eye open and looked at his alarm, not wanting to get up. They needed to move practice later into the day. Groaning, he pulled the covers over his head, trying to shut the sound out. The American felt rustling next to him and heard the sound flip off with a click.

"Alfred," Arthur murmured, trying to pull the covers down but finding the professional baseball player had a strong grip on the blanket.

"I don't wanna get up," the American whined, causing Arthur to roll his eyes; it seemed like the Brit had to go through this every single day. "Let me sleep in for once!"

"You have practice today," the Brit argued, but Alfred still refused to move. Every time Alfred was late to practice his coach made him stay later and in some cases pay a fine for being late. Arthur bit his lip before continuing.

"I'll cook breakfast for you," he smirked as the American had sprung out of bed and immediately started shedding his clothes in place for his jersey; a Yankees jersey with the name 'Jones' printed on the back above a large number fifty. It had been in the first week of living together that Alfred discovered the truth behind Arthur's cooking skills, and why his mother never let him in the kitchen when they were still teenagers. Ever since then, it had been the Brit's main strategy for getting Alfred to stop being lazy.

"I'm going, I'm going," he grumbled as he slipped his pants boxers off and slipped on a new set. Arthur smiled and closed his eyes, knowing he wouldn't have to get up for work for another hour or two; the greatest part about being an author was you get to make your own hours.

The Brit listened to the sounds of Alfred getting ready, to him sipping coffee in their dining room. Soon here Al would have to leave to practice and leave Arthur alone in their condo. He'd get back at five or six and insist that he played on his laptop for another five hours before sleeping. Arthur, in the meantime, would wake up when he was ready and get himself some tea before writing several pages on his new book.

The Englishman was about to fall back to sleep when he felt a warm set of arms wrap around the blanket covering his body. He opened up one of his emerald eyes and saw Alfred leaning over him, grinning, before catching the boy's lips in a small kiss.

Arthur kissed back happily, pulling one arm out of the blanket to wrap it around the American's neck and pull him closer. Alfred nipped his lip lightly before pulling away, smiling at his lover.

"I'll see you when I get home, you arrogant little British dude," he grinned, but Arthur scoffed.

"I'm not little and I'm not arrogant," he grumbled; but he heard the sound of Alfred shutting their bedroom door softly. Arthur listened to the boy's footsteps as he walked out of the condo, leaving the boy alone in the apartment.

He'd be back tonight, though.

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That's it, broskis! Thank you all for reading this, if you read it this far. Nothing makes me happier than knowing people enjoy reading my stories just as much as I like to write them. I've got a small muse going for my next story; but I believe I'll be writing a new one sooner or later. Thank you to all of you who reviewed! You don't know how much your reviews keep me going, really. Finally, review for the last time on this story, guys. It's now complete *tears in my eyes* This thing is about 70 pages long my word document O_o so much typing... but it was worth it. Again, thank you all for reading. Hasta la pasta~!

-BunnyOfMint


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